


Ladycrowe

by Augenblickgotter



Series: Ladycrowe and the Lion of Tadfield [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Ladyhawke (1985)
Genre: 80's fantasy movie, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Good Omens Fusion, Alternate Universe - Ladyhawke Fusion, Animal Attack, Animal Transformation, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), BAMF Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crossover Pairings, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley in the isabeau role, Curses, Established Relationship, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, High Fantasy, Hurt Crowley (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), Inspired by Ladyhawke (1985), Knight Aziraphale (Good Omens), Longing, M/M, Magic, Middle Ages, Mild Innuendo, Mild Language, Mutual Pining, Pining, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Slow Burn, as a matter of fact it's a lot of pining, aziraphale in the navarre role, but i am writing a sequel and prequel with more getting it on I promise, cursed for rejection, lusting and desire, some mild animal violence, sorcerer crowley, sorry it's all longing till the end, sorry there's no getting it on in this one because it's all pining, stronk aziraphale, uriel good omens, warlock in phillips role, warlock's perspective, you've seen ladyhawke it's all goddam pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:22:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 14
Words: 69,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22413172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Augenblickgotter/pseuds/Augenblickgotter
Summary: Under an iron fist of ArchBishop Gabriel no one has escaped the fortress city of Castle Tadfield.Not until now. Young thief Warlock, nicknamed The Rat, made a daring but tracked escape from Tadfield's  dungeon before execution. Now  being pursued by both Castle Guards, lead by ruthless Captain Guard Michael and her garrison of soldiers, as well as secretly by banished former Captain of the Guard Aziraphale. Aziraphale , the noble former knight never seen without a large raven as his companion, has his own motivations to return to the very castle. He needs Warlock's help to get back into the city  and lift a mysterious curse that keeps two hearts together yet eternally apart.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Ladycrowe and the Lion of Tadfield [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1770256
Comments: 268
Kudos: 140





	1. Down the gutter

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dragonimp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonimp/gifts), [elf_on_the_shelf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elf_on_the_shelf/gifts), [LeapOfFaith1489](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeapOfFaith1489/gifts), [astral_gravy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/astral_gravy/gifts).



> A mashup of the 80's classic romantic fantasy 'Ladyhawke" and the recent tv adaptation of 'Good Omens".  
> Descriptions of some sword induced bloodshed, gore, animal violence, intense situations, and deaths throughout. Your standard-issue swords and sorcery stuff. Some mild language and innuendo too. Also copious references to lusting and unrequited desires, I gave it the Non-con tag for that. But for the record, if you've ever seen 'Ladyhawke', it's ALL lusting and pining to the end.  
> Also, a few out-of-time references to blend with the modern comedy. Nothing over the top, though I tend to keep Warlock's speech on the glib modern side. ;)  
> I revise and clean the text up as I can.  
> Bonus, I throw in some flashbacks for character building. Double bonus, I've been requested to write a prequel and sequel. Stay tuned. ;)  
> NON-CON is for unwanted advances, no actual abuse. Still, it's a trigger and non-con, so I've tagged it so.
> 
> There is a prequel in the works now, [The Lion of Tadfield.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29033961/chapters/71262867)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warlock, the eleven year old thief has just done the impossible; escaping the infamous dungeons of Tadfield.  
> The feared Bishop Gabriel does not want such a feat to go unpunished and dispatches his Captain of the Guard, Michael, to see it through.

"That's it, Rat! Just...get....uhh.... a... bit of a wiggle on and you'll be back on the street!"

We open to an earthen wall, dimly lit and dank, instantly giving the sense of being underground.

A dungeon.

Faintly a young voice is heard muttering and laboring from behind the subterranean wall.

"Come on Rat.....ugh..... Come on. You've made it this far. Be a darn shame to.... to just.... ugh... get recaptured now. You know....ufff..."

From a small pinpoint on the earthen facade, dirt tumbles downward. A small hole is poked forth from the wall that grows larger and larger as a dirty hand labors through, widening the earth. 

"Breakthrough! Whoohoo!"

We cut to the word outside the earthen prison. It's the Middle Ages. The location is the fortress castle city of Tadfield.

The time is early in the morning. Probably right before tea time but that isn't only anyone's mind.

Executions are in progress, and the gallows are busy. Today's specialties are thieves and robbers.

The churchyard where the executions are being held bustles with men and horses and a constant stream of people being lead to their literal rope bound end. Guard yell and bustle more people forward, chains clink with the reluctant shuffling feet and people slowly ebb toward the gallows.

Another pair of victims slam through the gallows' floors and cease to move. Though there have been executions almost continuous, passing people still grimace and react to the sight of sudden ends. The citizens mutter under their breath about the times before, when things were calmer and more welcoming. As of the last two years, this has been only a memory. Tadfield used to be quieter and peaceful, but the advent of the new order in the church seemed to have unleashed a tide unflinching authority to all in the city.

Directly in the church, the young angel faced friars, trying to focus on their studies and prayers, flinch and unexpectedly jump each time. No amounts of mellifluous chanting wafting along the incensed laden air can dim the begging, shrieking, and neck-breaking outside.

A calm, ruggedly elegant, tall prowed ship of a man was anchored serene in this tumultuous sea in the middle of the church.

This all is a man who has no time or reason to reflect, much less react, at the process, he sees as purely necessary. Though middle-aged, his face is pure virility. Dark hair streaked with enough grey to show his experience, a chin line as square as the Church foundation. He is Bishop Gabriel of Tadfield.

Adorned in his lengthy soft grey habit and an inexorable steel smile that doesn't shift, he watches the process unblinking, like his very stare justified every life to end here and now. He gives a quick nod after the last victims go limp.

"Most excellent day for the wronged to be righted, I'd say," he easily quipped to the room. He flashed his gentlemanly smile. The young Brothers mostly nodded and remained silent.

Right outside the church doors next to the gallows rides another grim figure. Astride her grey mount, red hair wound efficiently in place, an icy but circumspect look on her face, and clad in the Tadfield white and grey colors on her surcoat. This is Micheal, Captain of the Guard. She casually rounded on her grey horse through the churchyard to find one of the dungeon hands. Michael, though maybe less religious in her appearance than The Bishop, was in a mental lockstep with her revered Gabriel on dealing with these damned souls. It was her duty. She wore that duty like her armour; every day and late into the night if it called for it.

"Bring out the rest," she mechanically ordered Dagon, the head Dungeon Master, gesturing with her hand holding a flagon filled with tea. (Well, fine, she obviously knew it was tea time) . "Oh," she added over her shoulder, "Bring the Rat this time if you would be so kind."

"My pleasure!" Dagon called back with a lengthy grin.

Dagon and two hands approached the lower stockade chamber door, motioning and barking to get through to the stationed doormen. They moved through the cage lattice dungeon lit only by pit fires and torches. The wailing was equally deafening here, but the guards bustled onward.

"More thieves, up now! And the one They call The Rat." Other guards gestured the path to the specific cell. Heavy deadbolts clanged and gates lift and parted, opening into the furthest lowest chambers. Dagon entered, scanning the tense room filled with filthy cowering prisoners who were mostly chained or shackled about the earthen room.

She scanned around quickly and shook her head at having wasted a long walk he didn't need to do. Especially at tea time. 'I'm..... in the wrong cell" she began, wanting to intimidate but not scare away a fast answer to his query, "I am looking for the youth they call The Rat."

"The Rat?" one of the inmates playfully queried back.

Dagon locked eyes to see some random filthy prisoner on the straw strewn floor. The maniacal glint on the prisoner's face made her realize something was amiss. Or the man was nuts. Or some infinite combination of the two.

The Dungeon Master approached glaring harder but cocking her head in interest as the man continued cackling. "The Rat? He didn't stay here for a chitchat. That little brat, gone whereat? It will drive you nutter..... he went down the gutter!" The crazy man's eyes pointed as he finished by staring at the opened drain hole on the floor. A very small drain hole. The basic cover had been removed.

Dagon, humiliated, lunged at the man, making him cower suddenly. "Impossible!!! He was just here, and that hole is too small!!" she snarled in disbelief. 

"It's the truth, m'lord! He squeaked through and vanished!" the prisoner begged as if to amend his offense. 

"Find The Rat!!!" She snapped. "And hang this one, now!!" she raged, storming out while ignoring the crazy man's protest. "And get me some damn tea!"

The Rat, whose real name is Warlock, had just managed to make his getaway hole in the muddy wall. Too small for most, but for an 11-year-old street urchin with innate ability to get out of things, it was working. It was still a tight squeeze, and he was thoroughly mud streaked, right through his thin rough cloth garbs to his scalp. He strained hard, trying to refrain from too much noise but still trying to find amusement at the moment.

"Hey... uhhh... if I had eaten anything on the last day I might not....uuummpp..... fit through this! I knew......ahhhk... there was a reason they weren't feeding me in there........ whoa! " He popped through the hole and fell downwards into the flowing sewer waters. He surfaced, gasping and flailing. "Ack!! Hack!! Guuhhhh... at least I'm not dirty any more! Whaddaminute... aww, sewer water! I'll take the mud!" He grinned at his joke as he moved through the water closer to the curved cobbled wall. Warlock was born into destitution and figured he would die in it, but hopefully not anytime soon. Despite his lot, he was always mildly optimistic. He'd always been lucky, fast, and clever. And he was the funniest person he ever met. But his penchant for sarcasm and humor got him into as much trouble as his quick-handed thievery. Why just break into a church and simply steal something when you could write profane scribbles on the religious artworks as well?

Michael crossed the vestibule directly into the church, head held up, trying to look as prepared as always. But the speed in her step had monks and friars moving aside and whispering something was amiss.

Bishop Gabriel was in the middle of discussing services with other church members. He spotted Michael's approach, tipped his head in puzzlement, and greeted cordially; 'Michael! What gives? The good Lord's work going smooth as it always does for my best?"

Michael halted, at a transient silence then shook her head 'No."

Gabriel's constant smile cracked for an instant as he raised his brows.

\------------------

Warlock was paddling along the truly dank slow-flowing waters, trying to remain totally silent while straining to hear voices outside the few tiny barred windows he passed. There seemed to be a rise in activity, and he hoped it wasn't because of him. He gasped and flailed his way against the concrete and brick duct wall when he spotted something floating through the water, straight at him. Small, oddly shaped, but bobbling..... did he see a glint of eyes and hear it say something?!

"Uhhh..... okay, Lord, " he began, not removing his eyes from the emerging shape. "It's like this; we never talked. And now is a good time for us to start... because.... uhhhh, I'm ready to hear what you have to say and ... uh.... this a great time to get me on the right path I've been told so much about. So refrain, please, from letting that Kraken or whatever that water-dwelling beast is, from eating me now. 'Cause, yanno, we wouldn't get me straight if I was eaten and....."

Warlock was still trying to comfort himself as his 'Kraken' drifted by.

And quacked.

Warlock yelped a laugh. "A duck! Really lord! Is that a quacken then?" He started laughing at his own jape so hard he nearly toppled into the water, but stopped when he clearly heard bells. Loud, demanding church bells. And voices.

Bells clanged from the tower. Troops were calling and clamoring. Units of horses straddled in armoured men circled about the courtyard, scattering livestock and peasants. Warlock cocked his head, for over the rising hubbub was the sounds of singing. A choir. Ethereal voices drifted from above, adding a coincidentally and invitingly heavenly touch to what he felt was a passing miracle with the Kraken scare. He spotted iron rungs in the wall that served as laddered steps up a shaft from where the song drifted down. He started up them, half curious if maybe he finally was getting some sort of godly break here.

"Hey, God? Are you calling? It's Warlock here!"

\--------

The bells clanged perpetually outside. Beyond the city walls where pastures and farmlands tranquility listened in the autumn light, a rider neared as if the bells summoned him forth from nowhere. Many riders came to and from and around Tadfield, but this one was different. The first obvious thing was the gigantic jet black charger he rode. The coat of the horse alone was shimmering black, and it's rippling mane cascaded down like rain at midnight. Equally striking was the rider, clad in opposing fair colors. The armour the Knight bore had some resemblance to the Tadfield white and grey marks, but instead of grey, there were gold touches. Most notably a golden noble lion, roaring and proud on the breastplate. This was hard to fully glimpse due to the winter white cloak with a cream-colored fur-lined hood. To continue to the remarkable sight was The Raven. A rather large raven was perched on the upheld hand of the obscure rider pausing to stare towards the bells. It too was as ebony as the horse and had an almost shaggy beard of feathers under its chin. A gold glint sparked in the corvid's eyes. It ruffled its wings and croaked.

"Oi. Tadfield," it squawked.

The rider nodded, gave a slight upward bounce to the hand the bird was perched on. The Raven opened its wings and sailed off, letting out a few more caws. The Knight urged the horse closer to the city.

\----------

"And I can LITERALLY see the light now, Lord!" Warlock half-shouted as he pulled himself upward, rung by rung. It was getting brighter as he came to a floor grate. Maybe it was divine intervention, maybe not. He just wanted to be ready for the proper choice of being saved or running into the shadows again. He carefully pressed against the grate, cramming to see into the room.

" _ One of the church rooms _ ?"

Obviously. Religious people. Friars, brothers, nuns could be seen. And peasants and commoners.

_ "Hmmm, must be church time for someone.... maybe if I try and lift this grate up while they are so busy, I could mix in with the masses and just stroll out......" _

He froze in terror as Michael entered the room just as his fingers had wrapped around the grate to try and remove it. The peasants looked nervous but continued their reciting as she stalked through, scanning back and forth over every face. Warlock was too nervous to remove his grip, fearing he'd be seen, but regretted that choice as Michael strode passed, stepping on his fingers in the process. Warlock stifled a yell as he plunged back to the sewer water. Enough of that, he reckoned while thrashing back upward. _ " Let's find a real way out." _

_ _______________________ _

Gabriel and Michael strolled the upper balcony of the church gravely. For an instant, all that could be heard was the soft scuffing of Gabriel's robes across the floor. Michael had her arms folded behind her, trying not to let her emotions overwhelm her.

"I can't even believe it myself," she apologized again. "But there is no other way he could escape...."

"Escape?" Gabriel chided.

They stopped and faced each other, Gabriel raising a brow and looking bemused. Michael inhaled and raised herself more with a frown.

"That's not a word we use around here in Tadfield. Do you know what that does to our image? "

Of course, Michael did, but she just humbly nodded. Gabriel nodded back and generously opened his clasped hands.

"Right, so, let's not let this go down as an escape, it'll start giving the wrong folks the wrong ideas. Let's call it a, hmmm, momentary misplacement....."

"It would be a miracle if he actually....." Michael began but Gabriel stopped her right there by pointing and getting a bright smile.

"You said it! Miracle! That is what we are made of! So, let's show everyone we still have that touch. Go on, search everywhere and take who you need. Remember, I'm on your side to see it done, and that's as good as..." he paused and looked skyward. "Well, having the Almighty on your side. "

Michael composed herself, spun her heels, and started away. "I won't fail."

"Good!" Gabriel cheered. "I'm counting on it! Tadfield is counting on it!"

Michael rode under the lychgate and wheeled out towards the fortress gates, shouting to the gathering troops.

"To the person who catches the thief Warlock," she bellowed, "They will be brought to the personal attention of Bishop Gabriel himself! Big damn deal, as you know! As good as a blessing from the Heavens themself! For the man who lets him get away, you'll be seeing to ME personally! Now ride with me! Open the gate!"

The drawbridge grounded, the gate clanked open and the garrison in a cloud of dust and turned up earth thundered over the bridge. The very bridge Warlock was drifting noiselessly under. He swam next to an adjacent pier behind two idle soldiers who sat resting on barrels. They had been cutting pears with a small silver dagger, but now sat drinking tea remarking how glad they were they weren't on that wild goose chase for a stupid thief kid. Warlock soundlessly swam up and pried loose the dagger that was jabbed into the pier boards, and then discreetly cut a sack of coins from the nearest guard. He glided away, giddy with himself.

'Hey, Lord," he whispered as he drifted further and further down the stream, talking softly to himself. "I know I was thinking about NOT stealing, but, I never got a direct answer from you earlier. So, we'll get back in touch. Right now, I'm getting out of town! Forever, so long Tadfield. My damage is done! "

The bells pealed on as the hoofbeats faded into the countryside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed the random dungeon guard to Dagon, just to add some more faces and characters. ;)
> 
> Warm up chapter!
> 
> PLEASE NOTE: Since Michael and Dagon were female presenting in the show, I'm going with those pronouns.


	2. As if by miracle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warlock continues his journey further and further from Tadfield.  
> He's sure he has all the luck on his side until Michael proves why she is the most ruthless Captain of the Guard in her pursuit and that maybe Warlock needs to watch his mouth. He is unexpectedly rescued by Former Guard Captain Aziraphale, and whisked away to his next adventure.

The roads were silent.

No horns, no hoofbeats, no white and grey cloaks. Nothing. 

Warlock padded along at the steady hurried pace that his youth admitted. He crossed through subsiding fields and clearings, over hedges and fences. Tadfield was a small form behind him that slowly disappeared behind every turn and hill traveled. He continued to cheer himself along, still high off escaping the most infamous dungeon and Bishop around. 

_ "C'mon Rat! Keep going! Every step is another away from that stinking nasty stupid dungeon!"  _

__ He decided to travel a few well-worn lanes once he felt a little more secured with the distance he had put between himself and the city. This highway didn't have much foot traffic at this time of year, principally farmer families on carts bringing in their harvest. Occasionally there would be other thieves and robbers, and the rare highwayman who would more of hold up traffic and be an annoyance than a threat. He jogged along, feeling the weight of the day starting to drag at his feet. The shadows were becoming long, piked and darker against the golden light of the setting sun cresting and fading fast. 

_ "Puff....Pufff... Only a hundred million more miles to go, wherever I am going..."  _

As the light faded so did the warmth of the day. Warlock felt it first in his feet. His shoes, or more of wrapping rags, were already damp from crossing shallow streams. Immediately the chill crept through his tattered rough spun garments. 

_ "Hey, Warlock,"  _ he chided internally, "  _ You though trying to steal holy water from the church was such a good idea, maybe you should have stolen a new shirt. Or shoes. Or something to EAT!  _ " He wondered why none of these rational thoughts ever befell to him when he was wrapped up trying to steal other things when the evening air was filled with a sound. He paused and strained his hearing past the bubbling of the stream nearby. The sound was loud, like a bell, but more like a shout.

_ Horns or a trumpet from soldiers?  _ " It sounded again. It was an animal noise.

"  _ A wolf! Wait, idiot, wolves howl.  _ _ Livestock...... maybe a lost cow......"  _ The sound repeated and he felt mildly uncomfortable. 

_ "A bear,"  _ he settled on. "  _ It's a roar like a bear." _

He had seen a dancing bear at a carnival once (it more of tumbled like a furry fat man than danced) and was sure it would roar like that.

He suddenly brightened. 

_ "Well, I always wanted to see a bear up close! Maybe not THIS close, though."  _ He stumbled along the creek towards a grove of tall trees.

Warlock had slept many a night cold, uncomfortable, hunted, and nervous. Tonight was the worst yet. He had figured a tree would be more sheltered than the ground. Getting up in one was just the beginning. The trial of actually sleeping on a branch was soon unbearable and quickly went down in his own opinion as to the stupidest thing he ever tried. (And being who he was, that was a long tough list to top). Yet he was too worried that the bear was lurking about to attempt anything else.

_ "Maybe if I was a bird this would be easier." _

The morning dawned misty but lightened fast. The sun grinned over the world and Warlock resumed his trot. He managed to pilfer a few apples and some cheese off a peasants cart as they rested from harvesting in the fields overnight. So he was re energized and sure that the spying eyes of Tadfield and it's soldiers were far behind him. He was back into his familiar groove; a young boy with no past, no one to tell him what to do, and no hurry, ready to find (and potentially appropriate) new opportunities. And he had a satchel of gold coins to waste! 

Warlock ambled down a gentle slope to an unknown village that looked thoroughly inviting. The usual throng of laborers was going about their days. Livestock filled various corrals, geese sauntered about honking, and a blacksmith worked at an open forge near the center of town.

He wandered down a gentle hill crowned with an orchard towards the village epicenter, ready to blend in (he also had stolen some new clothes, so was confident his appearance was undetectable). He neglected to notice a figure of the lone White Knight on the oversized black charger beside one of the apple trees, watching his arrival. The horse shifted on its hooves, restless. The cawing of a raven drew closer as the large bird landed on a branch nearby. It stretched its head towards the town, then glanced at the Knight.

"Oi. The Rat?" it probed. The Knight nodded.

Warlock loped down a street to an open area where food and drink were being served to traveling fighters and locals. It was outside an inn and board, so there was a mix of people and children chatting, resting, or playing simple dice games at the tables. He ran up to the large indifferent keeper busy serving drinks to the men who sat about. 

"Your finest ale, if you please! Whatever costs the most!" he demanded.

The keeper rolled his eyes a bit and muttered something about a child with no coin until Warlock raised the bag of coins still tied to his belt and started jangling it loudly. The keeper still looked skeptical but moved to prepare a drink, grabbing a flagon and heading toward the row of barrels with taps. Warlock was excited. Sure, he had stolen beers before, but he was actually buying one.

"And, if anyone would like to join me in a toast as well! " He shouted with bravado, spinning to face the ambient patrons. 

"Whatever for?" grumbled a plain sounding person, back turned to Warlock, in a traveler's cloak, surrounded by similarly garbed people who were all drinking from flagons at a table. 

"BECAUSE," Warlock announced loudly grabbing the mug and holding in both hands, "You drink to a special man who was in the most infamous dungeons of Tadfield, easily escaped in broad daylight, and lives to tell about it!" 

"Well, drink to me young lad," the person said. "I have encountered said dungeons."

Warlock felt pricked with skepticism and the desire to assure this fool their feat compared not to his.

"Wow, impressive! Were you a blacksmith? Carpenter? Visiting your mother maybe? But were you a prisoner who escaped in full daylight under the nose of the Captain of the Guard themselves?" He silently beamed as he took a loud slurp of his drink. 

_ "And beer still tastes horrible!"  _ he thought. " _ Why didn't I get something...." _

"Still under our noses, Rat," the figure sighed turning around, pulling down the hood of their cloak. 

Michael rose from her bench, helmet under arm, fully clad in her armour. The rest of the concealed troops around her rolled back their hoods and rose as well, a few stifling laughs, but most of them looking stern. She clicked her tongue and give him an impossibly dry stare.

"If you had just stayed in the woods, we may have never found you," she admitted in mock flattery. 

"Yeah....." Warlock unsteadily agreed, eyeing left and right. "Great advice. I'll use that next time." 

He was trapped in plain sight. Villagers started scooting away, not wanting to interfere. 

"Grab him," she said, "let us get back to Tadfield before dark." 

Two soldiers approached, menacing. 

"C'mon, Rat."

One reached out to cuff the boy just as Warlock splashed his beer in their face and threw the mug at the other soldier. They shouted and lunged at him, and everyone else reacted once. The other fighters, save for Michael who had reseated and was looking irritated, charged. Peasants shouted and tried to move away. Warlock began ducking and bobbing past shielded gloves and grappling hands trying to restrain him. He was too quick, young, and small to be grabbed. If he could only break down a street or alley, he could find some sort of escape, he always did. But no matter how or where he scrambled, he was yanked or blocked around the inn porch. He clambered up a trellis, thinking maybe he could get to a roof and hop to another. To his dismay, the trellis only covered the porch area by the inn, and he felt even more vulnerable as the men began to draw their sword and poke upwards at his feet. 

"Not fair! And I just stole these shoes!" he screamed, hopping aorund.

Michael crossed her arms and dramatically let out a mocking sigh. "Get down here now, I am no longer amused." 

Warlock thought maybe he could trick them into thinking he was surrendering and make a run. He held his palms up an instant to show he was done and lept down. He saw a break if he could only race past one of the men.

But they gave him no chance. One slammed him back hard as Michael got up from her seat to approach. He jerked away as another grabbed him harder. They were laughing at his flailing as he resisted, and it turned into a game as the soldiers slapped him around.

" _ You bastards think you can treat me like this?!  _ " he thought, remembering his dagger. He grabbed it with his free hand and yanked hard from a gripping soldier, almost losing his balance. Spinning the blade out wildly as the soldiers crowded him, he heard one man cackle at his childish slashes. But the whole village went silent in an instant when Warlock continued his full-bodied revolution and accidentally slashed Michael across the cheek. 

A small slash. She gasped, halted in her tracks, regained her anger and touched the bleeding wound. The troops were paralyzed. Even the chickens stopped clucking nearby.

Warlock felt his mind empty, not sure what he was trying to do and now even less sure what he had done. "Uhhh, sorry. Really really sorry. I just..... wanted... to umm, scare you and..."

Michael was rubbing the gloved bloody finger against her thumb and pretended to look thoughtful. 

"Kill him." 

Warlock's body didn't even react when he was grabbed on both sides harshly, and his mind still was hammering with disbelief.

_ "Did she just say........" _

The guards dragged him against a base post of the trellis as another unsheathed a sword. Warlock's eyes bulged and he hyperventilated as the man touched the blade to his neck and then arced it back sturdily for the cut.

"God!" Warlock rasped, "pleasedelivermeanmiraclebecauseIcouldreallyuse....." The swordsman yelped and let the blade roll from his hand to the ground. Warlock pressed even harder against the post as everyone reacted to the bolt protruding from the soldier's shoulder. 

_ "It worked! Thanks god!" _

__ Yet the whole unit was looking beyond the porch of the inn to the actual source of the bolt.

There stood a knight holding a double-tiered crossbow. He wasn't especially tall (or short for that matter) or muscular like many knights. Frankly, being clean shaved, he looked cherubic compared to the chiseled faces of the other men. Even his hair was platinum golden-white and curly which added to an immaculate youthful appearance along with bright blue eyes. He bore pale armour that confused Warlock with its similarity to the Tadfield coat of arms, except for the lion emblem on the front. 

Another soldier raised his crossbow and growled as he let a bolt fly. It missed the Knight, who blinked as it whizzed past, before raising his own crossbow again and hitting the offending soldier in the chest. 

"So sorry," The White Knight honestly apologized, "But you fired first. Mine was justified." 

Michael held her hands up as her man toppled over, gesturing for a halt in any action. All the men in the unit lowered their blades and backed off. The Knight stepped forward and began, "And now, YOU," he nodded at dumbfounded Warlock, "may leave." Even his voice was pleasant and sincere. Warlock wanted to see the reaction on Michael's face but was fairly certain he could feel it's spur on the back of his neck as he started moving away. Warlock was starting to break into a run as he passed the White Knight but was stopped short as the Knight thrust the emptied crossbow right out in front of Warlcok.

"If you'd be so kind," the Knight demured, "Strap this my horse. He's the big one behind the inn, you simply can't miss him." He patted the boy on the shoulder and moved towards the garrison, drawing a broadsword. 

_ "Uhh, sure....?" _

Warlock shouldered the weapon and ran off without hesitation to do the deed.

Michael lowered her hands and sneered as she approached the Knight. 

"One of the men mentioned you had returned," she scoffed, coming closer. "I told him to stop lying or I'd throw in the dungeon next. Besides, I figured you weren't stupid enough to something like that."

The Knight turned his head to the side a little and narrowed his gaze at Michael. 

"Well, then your man wasn't lying. And," he added curtly with a grin, "You figured quite wrong. Hello, Michael. I haven't missed you."

"Ah, " she taunted, "So you are stupid, " leaning closer and hissing.  _ "Aziraphale!"  _

The men around here started chattering quietly.

" _ Thee  _ Aziraphale?" one of the younger ones asked. 

"The famous benevolent Captain of the Guard? The one who was said to have unpassed command and loyalty of his men?" 

Michael started to bristle and turn crimson.

"The famous Angel of Tadfield?" another whispered.

An affirming murmur went through the troops. Aziraphale gave a small smile and a minute acknowledging wave of his free hand that seemed to say " _ Yes, that is I  _ ".

Another soldier began, "I heard his command single handedly won the Battle of....." 

" **Shut it** !" Michael roared.

Aziraphale frowned and lowered his hand. Michael was gasping loudly with rage. 

"I AM Captain now, and you shall know it! If you dogs are truly loyal to your Captain, bring me his head!" 

"Really, Michael, that's not....." Aziraphale began, but cut himself off as men charged with swords drawn.

Aziraphale dodged the first two that tried to topple him and they ended up toppling over each other loudly. Another lunged bringing a broadsword down from high only to meet Aziraphales own sword in a perfect parry and full body slam which sent him flat on the ground. Another swung with an ax, which missed completely, sending the fighter teetering sideways with his swinging momentum. Aziraphale took advantage of this by lunging his weight onto the side of the soldier and sending him toppling, tripping another soldier mid charge.

Michael was at her limit here and tried to charge from behind as Aziraphale was locked blocking other sword blows. She was almost on top of the former Captain when he whipped around and caught her neck bound cut with his blade. Metal ground audibly, feet planted against the earth. They pressed close together, separated only by their quivering swords. Michael's teeth were bared and her hair was coming undone and making a messy curtain in front of her face. Aziraphale was working up a sweat but just scrunched his brows down into angrier furrows. 

He gave an abrupt lunge of weight and sent Michael falling backward into a small open flame pit. The rest of the soldiers were cowering back or dropping their weapons, refusing to engage Aziraphale as he strode past them holding his broadsword. His light cloak was dirtier than before but still rippled behind him like a cloud. 

Michael was stewing in failure before she realized she was sitting on literal fire. She screeched, flopped forward coughing at the smoke, and commenced frantically rolling around. Some of the men tried to rush forward kicking up the earth, which made her cough more. 

She was on all fours, gasping for breath and deliverance.

Looking upwards to where the White Knight had disappeared around the inn, she screamed with the last spirit she had left. 

**"AHHHHZIRAAAPHAAAAALE!"**

Aziraphale went around the inn as fast as he could to find his horse. Not seeing it, he whistled and was answered by a neigh as the charger trotted up. The crossbow was strapped on, but the boy was gone.

Warlock -had- tied the crossbow to the saddle as told, at least.  _ "Sure I owe the guy that, I suppose,"  _ was his logic as he hurriedly strapped it down.

Then he had the brilliant thought maybe mount the horse himself and ride off. 

But the horse refused and kept side-stepping in protest before just trotting off. 

_ "Fine, you are a dumb horse anyway. Tell your master I said that."  _

He then frantically attempted to find one of the troops nearby horses but spooked the first he over eagerly rushed towards, which sent the other animals on edge. Soon they were pulling from the hitching posts, rearing, and scattering.

" _ Dumb animals!! I just want to steal you, that is all!!! " _

This incidentally gave Warlock a gain to escape since the soldiers had to chase down their mounts. But it gave him no option but to do what he did best.

Run. 

Warlock tore down the main road leading outside the village, hedged by narrow manicured trees. He zipped past a protesting soldier clearly failing at his task to stop escapees. He looked up the road to see the stone hedge wall yards off across the small garden he was running over.

_ "The edge of this town, if I can get up and over fast enough, they can't catch up... " _

__ His foot beats were abruptly matched by a louder beat as a rather heavy-sounding horse suddenly came up beside him on the other side of the trees. He broke past the tree-row and saw what he had guessed; The White Knight was on the huge horse and almost crashed into Warlock. His face was in total shock as the horse was almost on top of Warlock and he yanked the reins harder.

"No way!" Warlock shouted, not even slowing down as he raced for the fence. "No! Nope! Uhh-uh! No one gets the Rat today!"

The Knight had reined up short at the sight of Warlock, but immediately pressed the animal after him.

"Sorry!" Warlock heard from behind along with thundering hooves overtaking him. "But I am afraid so!" He felt a hand grab him hard by the base of the arm and hoist him off his feet. 

_ "Ack! No way! This can't be happening! "  _

He was flung, stomach down, across the front of the saddle over the pommel with an armoured hand still holding him at the base of his arm. All he could see was the churning of horse legs, pasture, and the fast-approaching fence line. And he was terrified to resist, fearing a fall and being trampled.

"So sorry!" he heard the Knight shout in a tone that sounded absolutely remorseful.

_ "Really?!"  _

_ "  _ But do hang on, please! We're going to have to jump!"

_ "Hang on to what? Wait, JUMP?" _

__ Aziraphale was thundering down the road to a door in the fence under an archway of stone, but positioned soldiers were closing it fast. They levered up a deadbolt secure and were waving for him to stop. Still, despite the gate being taller than a man, he saw the clearance above it and spurred the horse right at it. The soldiers paused as the black beast didn't slow. 

"No!" Warlock squeaked, closing his eyes tight.

The horse did sail right over the doors, barely clearing the slats of wood, descending with every ounce of animal, armour, gear, and human. The landing was weighty, everything seemed to lurch forward twice as hard as it possibly could upon the horse's front hooves touching the earth. The horses back half hitting the ground was just as shocking, and sent Warlock back against the Knight who never let go of his arm. Then the bobbing movement of galloping renewed. Warlock felt impaled on the saddle and jostled to pieces. 

The two stunned soldiers got up from ducking to avoid a clobbering from a mid-air warhorse. One had the faculty to whip up his crossbow and dead center it on the rider. But his finger hadn't even made it to the trigger when a shrieking noise sailed right at them. His comrade screamed as a large black bird suddenly nosedived at his face, clawing, pecking and beating its wings. He spun into his occupied compatriot, which made him lose his perfect shot and fire the bolt skyward. 

The Raven was already flapping after Aziraphale squawking (which sounded uncannily like laughter) in obvious triumph by the time the two troops had composed themselves. Aziraphale, white cloak streaming behind him and a surprised boy over the saddle, was already a miniature shape shrinking past the dust billow the horse stirred and left. 

"Ack! Ack!" it hooted "Ahhhhziraphale! Ahhhh- ahhh-ack!" 

The roads fell silent again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, a bit of a filler here before the real action starts. And not enough of the Raven. Stay tuned!


	3. Gold in darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warlock finds himself rescued and a new page to the fallen knight Aziraphale.  
> But his restless nature doesn't mesh with knighthood, and he's pushed to his limit by Aziraphale's beloved Raven. The Rat considers escaping back to his old habits but finds more worrying events and creatures closing in around him.

W

arlock watched the black horse's mane ripple in front of him as it's head bounced along with each step. He was silently simpering to himself thinking about his miraculous turn of luck; Capture, almost execution, escape, almost recapture, almost another execution, escape and now saved. 

He had been ferried at top speed for miles while balanced across the front of that god-awful saddle. There was very little he could and didn't even attempt to fight back the whole time. His most prominent suspicion was he was being taken by a rogue sellsword back to Tadfield for whatever ransom was on his head. That would have been an irreverent disaster. After a while when it was clear the rider felt they had journeyed far enough and slowed the horse and shortly stopped. 

At that point Warlock was equally frightened he might never be able to unbend to a normal upright walking person again. To his bewilderment, the Knight was most conciliatory the whole time helping Warlock to his feet to try and stand again. He apologized for everything, from how rough Warlock had to be handled to get out of the village (he said he knew better but couldn't work it any other way at that moment), the ride (he would have stopped if he could have to let him ride proper, but that was impossible), and the whole situation he was in (so sorry the soldiers were giving him such a difficult time) and he was very honored to have rescued him and hope he didn't mind acting as his page in return for his service (and continued service, he assured him no guards would harm him with a knight around.) .

Warlock felt overwhelmed, but maybe that was just the blood rushing back to his head properly. Maybe the fact the Knight didn't act overtly sinister at all. He was pleasant and lively. Warlock just nodded the whole time, wavering on his feet. The knight properly acquainted himself as Aziraphale, former Captain's Guard of Tadfield. 

Warlock never saw the allure of Knights and Chivalry. Sure, he loved the fairy tales he had heard as a child that painted knights as flawless, regal, and courteous. The actual ones he encountered were rough, hardened, and commonly bitter, like years of devotion and bloodshed stripped them of any inner light the stories extolled. But Aziraphale seemed to be a Knight of his Tales. Fearless, skilled, but gentlemanly. His features even seemed softer and friendly in a way that wasn't endangering Warlock. Maybe it was a ruse, maybe he was a hoax, a charlatan, or talentless and hiding behind the shiny armour. It didn't matter. There was no questioning after today, the thought of having a Knight escorting you around was hard to say no to.

So they rode the rest of the afternoon through the dense mossy forest trails. Warlock wasn't exactly sure where they were and where they were headed. During the escape, while he was over the saddle, he genuinely lost a sense of location and direction.

_ "Whatever. As long as I am headed away. " _

And Warlock began to find how much he missed a little conversation. When the Knight worked to attempt and strike up a chat with a lone thief who had no family, no past and was only good at stealing, Warlock found himself slipping into tales of his previous adventures and escapes with glee. Aziraphale seemed to listen to every word and chuckle at his every misdeed.

_ "Well, he seems nice enough." _

The afternoon passed into the later part of the day as they passed a modest cluster of farmers' rough boarded shacks and houses. Dense smoke sank from a few stacks nearby, indicating habitants. 

"I think, " Aziraphale announced brightly, "We should stop here for the night."

Warlock was wary of locals in places like this. They were often, well, thieves like himself. Or at least suspicious and dangerous. He started protesting as Aziraphale turned the horse towards some of the sheds and stables. A startled peasant wench ran off shouting the name Ligur repeatedly towards a scruffy worker chopping wood. The presumably Ligur looked up from his chopping, still holding the ax, and bristled at the horse and riders while the woman hid behind him.

Aziraphale gave a smile and greeted them. "Hello! We're looking for lodging for ourselves and my ride for the night. Nothing fancy at all, even a hay barn would be splendid."

Ligur looked even grimmer and gave a shake of his head, not shifting his gaze.

"No, we don't have anywhere for your like."

Warlock felt a momentary duty to prove he was handy and pulled up his stolen coin purse and began to jangle it. 

"Uh, of course, we'd pay! We're not asking for free!" 

The provincial wench squeaked something and Ligur's expression didn't change but he inhaled thoughtfully.

"Fine, that hay barn over there. Only tonight, be gone by morning and don't leave the clearing. I can't promise nothing wouldn't happen to ya' beyond there." 

Warlock tossed some coins as Aziraphle thanked them. Ligur turned back to chopping but didn't cease giving them looks as they headed for the barn.

~~~

Warlock slowly began regretting his new servitude as the day wore on. He assumed pages just polished armor and listened to knightly deeds. 

_ "How wrong I was." _

First, he had to help take off Aziraphale's plate armour, which was lots of tedious buckles and straps, AND heavy to remove. Azirpahale assured him it didn't need polishing every day, but every few days would certainly keep it in shape. Then he had to take the saddle off the stupid horse, which was even heavier than he knew it could be. Then he hauled water from the nearby well. 

_ "Okay, Warlock, this seemed like a great second chance at life, but I am really doubting you are cut out for Knighthood. Maybe I should just stick to picking pockets. Unless you are testing me, Oh Lord......." _

To make the whole afternoon even ghastlier was that Raven. It didn't occur to Warlock during his sideways abduction how frequently he heard raven calls. After he became acquainted with Aziraphale during the ride, he noticed the bird would glide close and caw regularly. Randomly at one point Aziraphale simply held out an arm and the large creature landed on it much to Warlock's shock. He had seen many people with falcons and kestrels before, large and small. He had seen street performers with chattery magpies and crows trained to say funny phrases. But this was a full-sized Raven, and they were even larger up close. It swooped up, closing in with a feathery flutter that startled Warlock. The feet armored with overlapping scales tipped with those curved claws snuggly gripped Aziaphale's hand. It had a ribbon-like strip wrapped around one leg, dark red in color. 

_ "A marker, or tethers like a falconer would have? " _

The bird had eyed Warlock, with a deep dark stare and seemed to be muttering something as it gawked. Warlock was staring back, transfixed that the Raven's eyes had an uncharacteristic golden tint. It gave it less of the unearthly look of a bird and more of an appearance like a person, along with the bib of shaggy feathers under its ample beak The bird grumbled something almost human-sounding, to which Aziraphale had whispered something back and touched the top of its feathered head with a kiss. The Raven complained and took off. Warlock didn't even question the moment, it was right before they reached their resting place. Just a well-trained bird and a lonely guy who owned it.

Now the Raven had landed on high spots in the barn and watched Warlock at work. And Warlock hated it, which grew as the Raven began to quip things at him. Taking off the armor he was shocked when it barked "Careful." Warlock gave it a confused look as the Raven continued to stare back and repeated "Careful." It repeated that phrase when he unsaddled the horse. Warlock huffed, lugging the saddle up to a stable door, peeved that such a nice person had probably taught a talking bird the most irritating things to say. 

"I am, stupid bird. Maybe you would like to do this?"

The Raven simply continued staring.

When he started hauling water, the Raven materialized outside on a tree branch above him. Warlock furrowed his eyes at it and stuck out his tongue. 

"Lemme guess, you want me to be careful and not spill this?"

"Obviously," the Raven mocked.

Warlock felt slapped. 

"Well, at least you know more than one word!"

"Endless."

_ "It's just repeating words......" _

That still felt like a dare to try and respond. 

"Stupid bird, " he growled heaving up a wet bucket.

"Stupid stupid servitude. I've had enough for one damn day! I didn't escape that stupid dungeon to become a maid to a stupid knight...."

The Raven barked in disapproval and took off from the tree to the barn squawking, "Aziraphale!"

_ "Great, the stupid bird probably can speak in full sentences and will be telling Aziraphale I called him stupid." _

Warlock heaved up the buckets and headed back.

He entered the barn, set the buckets down with a loud sigh and went to find his new Master. He was rounding one of the corners starting to announce that he was tucking in for the day when he found Aziraphale.

The Knight had been unpacking one of the saddlebags of its contents when he pulled out a long length of black cloth. It wasn't a bedroll but a frock, which was out of character for someone whose whole wardrobe seemed mostly light. Aziraphale paused midway from removing it and sighed hard, eyeing the descending sun on the skyline, and letting his whole form sag while clutching at the cloth. He pulled it closer, closing his eyes, and pressed it against a cheek. 

"Soon," he breathed, just as the Raven landed on the saddle slung over one of the stalls in front of Aziraphale. It let out a throaty chortling noise before hopping over to Aziraphale's shoulder, staring at his face. Aziraphale didn't even open his eyes, inhaling deeply. 

"Soon," the Raven agreed softly.

Warlock came just at that moment to see the Knight hugging the robe and the Raven on his shoulder pulling at the golden curls of hair on his head tenderly. 

_ "Oh, maybe he has a lady he has to avenge or rescue, most Knights do......."  _

Warlock didn't want to know, he feared it would be some long epic tale he wasn't up to pretend to be interested in right now. He coughed politely and said "Uhm, I think I have done enough for the day. I am going to turn in now." 

Aziraphale tried to move in an inconspicuous controlled action of pulling the black cloth together in his hands and performing like he was still unpacking. But Warlock caught he brushed past his eyes in a swift motion with it as well. 

_ "Sheesh, was he crying?" _

The Raven barked. "Rude!" and hopped up on a stall.

"Uhh, could you please brush and tend to my horse?" Aziraphale said, resuming his pleasant tone.

" My  horse!" the Raven insisted.

Warlock rolled his eyes. "Fine."

He went over to the massive animal and grabbed the lead , attempting to pull. The horse didn't budge. 

"Come on," he sighed. The horse didn't move. He pulled again and made no change. 

"Pleeeease come on," he tried, setting his feet and yanking harder. "I swear I won't get too mad and brush you out really nice." The horse still ignored him. The Raven audibly was laughing. 

"Your bird has a sense of humor," Warlock growled. 

Aziraphale was still unpacking and let out a proud chuckle. 

"Yes, he does. That's why I like him so much."

"Awwwwwwwwww, " the Raven cooed, but it sounded eerily sarcastic like it did have a sense of saltiness and this was a personal jab.

"Does the funny bird have a name?" Warlock said in a mocking tone, staring right at its freakish bead-like eyes. "Like, Jester? Wizard? "

"Crowley" the Raven retorted.

"Crow-lee?" Warlock asked incredulously. That seemed a bit anticlimactic. 

"You aren't a crow, stupid bird, you are a raven!"

"Not either."

"Oh, I see, you must be human then!"

"Obviously."

Warlock rolled his eyes.

"Very very cute," he said, pulling harder on the lead.

"I think so," Aziraphale agreed, turning from unpacking and viewing Warlock's futile effort to move the horse.

"Stop it," Crowley chided, hopping onto Aziraphale's outstretched hand.

Aziraphale turned and gave the bird a small smile.

"Oh, but I do!"

Warlock pulled more, then stopped. 

"Stubborn animal. Does your horse have a name?" he panted. 

"Bentley!" Crowley barked. Aziraphale nodded and confirmed, "His name is Bentley. Just talk to him nicely, he means no ill." 

"Very nice!" Crowley hooted.

Warlock gave a gentle pull of the lead and began 'Uhm, okay Bentley, please please just follow me and I'll take you to that stall and feed you and brush you all over, pleeease?"

"Go, Bentley," Crowley said. 

The horse began to trot off on its own, almost dragging Warlock. 

"See?" Aziraphale confirmed. "Just be nice to him and he'll be nice to you!"

Warlock doubted his 'niceness' got the horse moving but didn't pause to question it.

\-------

_ "Firewood?! Go out and get firewood? After today?! " _

He had tended to Bentley and even brushed him all over. Naturally, he hoped he was finished after a few strokes of the curry comb when Crowley's irritating voice piped in 'Missed a spot." The bird kept repeating that until it seemed satisfied and flew away. 

Now, if it oh wouldn't be too much bother, could he please get a little kindling and start a fire over at the firepit at the end of the barn? They could warm the water and dry their clothes. 

Warlock had had enough of this. Two unforgiving days of running, hiding, being hunted, near-death and he was gathering twigs.

Him!!! He had escaped a dungeon, for pity's sake! He had outwitted those guards and held his own! He didn't need someone to make a maid out of him. He knew he shouldn't wander too far and there was kindling to be found in the barnyard, but he wandered farther as it grew darker. He began talking aloud to himself between angrily crouching to pick up a stick. 

"Dumb Aziraphale! Thinks he is going to make a foot servant out of The Rat? Hell no! I have my own plans! My own people to meet! Places to go while I'm still young! I've done enough work for one day to pay for anything he thinks he's done for me! And that stupid bird! That was more insult than I deserve! I'd love to see how funny he was while I plucked feathers!" He smiled at his insults and started towards the woods, dropping his bundle.

"So long, Aziraphale. Nice meeting you and your stupid Crowley but I'm back to wherever it was that I was headed....."

He stopped totally when he heard a rustle. 

No mistaking, it was moving and it was bigger than a dog or a man. 

He felt his ears and eyes bulging in the dark as he strained among the trees....... More movement, moving around him in a circle. He felt very clammy and the distance to the barn seemed to have grown enormously. 

"Aziraphale, " he announced broadly, "I think someone is following us! Good thing you have that sword of yours!" He listened and heard a rumble. His mind was a white sheet of fear already, but it became paler. 

_ "That was a growl...." _

"Uhm, let's head back to the barn," he quavered, trying to sound loud. "And pray to goodness I don't use that crossbow while you stay here and hold off whatever it may be...."

His words were interrupted again by a louder growl, with more of the crackle of a roar working to edge out.

"SHOW NO MERCY!" he shouted, breaking back to the buildings. He was running blind in the dark, shouting. He reached the edge of a building, not even sure which of the stables and barns it could be, and pressed against it listening. His eyes still strained to the edge of the woods, so when he didn't notice Ligur edging up behind him, he jumped.

"I told you not to leave the clearing, boy," Ligur growled."The rest of the coins are mine."

The farmer moved at the boy with his ax being hoisted which was so unexpected Warlock just froze against the side of the barn and resumed yelling. 

_ "Aziraphale, you can surely hear this......" _

His voice was drowned by a booming noise to his other side closest to the woods. All Warlock saw, mouth still open and shouting, was Ligur's angry face suddenly transition to alarmed and he stopped in his tracks. Warlock covered his own face with his arms, waiting for the ax to come down, but felt something pass right beside him with the deafening roar. Ligur was now screaming uncontrollably and Warlock uncovered his gaze just as something huge and nonhuman grappled Ligur and knocked him to the ground. Warlock's mind was wheeling through every single creature he could reckon this was.

_ "Not a horse, not a man, not a dog.... wolf, NO!.... a bear! I heard one before....."  _

This wasn't a bear. The long tail whipped behind it, like a cat. The back was graceful, muscled and sleek as it reared upon the man. Its front arms were rounded with paws as large as a man's head. Even from behind, the most distinct thing was a mane. Crested in wavey long rippling feral hair. A lion.

Warlock had never seen a live lion up close, just a skin on a wall somewhere and pictures in manuscripts. But just as he had never seen a unicorn up close either, he was sure that he'd know one when he saw it. He knew it could be nothing else.

A LION.

The world was shaded of black and dimly grey hued with moonshine, but this lion was inexplicably visible. It seemed phosphorescent just like the moon above, faintly. It was white. Not sandy, not brown, not even yellow. Unmistakably white.

As it grappled Ligur to the ground violently, it's front lunged forward to the man's neck with bared long teeth. Warlock flattened more against the barn and his mouth flew open as the jaws snapped around the neck hard. Ligur's shrieks became shriller. Warlock couldn't watch and ran for the barn entrance screaming for Aziraphale.

**"Aziraphale!! Aziraphale! Captain! Sir!** " 

It was so dark, he wished there was a little fire to see inside. 

_ "Oh yeah, I was working on that....." _

He tore around each corner, concerning Bentley who was oddly undisturbed by the noises outside. He frantically looked about the rooms. Nothing. Just the bedrolls and some clothes, but no sign of anyone. Not even the dumb Raven. He still heard the last few cries from Ligur and some growling from the lion. 

_ "Oh god, what do I DO?! Can lions climb into haylofts?! Of course, they can, all cats can climb!! The crossbow! " _

He dashed to the pile of gear and lugged up the huge bow. To his dismay, it had no crank to pull the string back. He butted the end to the ground, tried to get a foot in the stirrup, and grabbed the string with both hands. It was easy to begin pulling, but he could make it about half way to the nock before it seemed to pull back. He heard the lion let out a quieter roar, like an inquiry. He tried pulling again, with the same results. 

_ "It can't be that hard! Just try harder!"  _

His foot slipped from the stirrup and the whole frame of the crossbow sprung up to his face. He took it to the chin and that knocked him backward. He flinched on the ground and was just hoping maybe the lion wasn't hungry anymore when he thought he heard Crowley's laughter.

_ "Lord, I will kill you Crowley when I get out of this if you are laughing at me now..." _

He stood up and resumed pulling again on the bowstring when a hand came out of the dark and pressed on his shoulder. He gasped loudly and looked up to where it had to be coming from. Someone was beside him and probably had been this whole time.

"Stop that," a man's voice said, "You'll break the string and make a fool of yourself, again." Warlock did stop and turned to face the figure, hoping maybe it was Aziraphale.

They were taller than Aziraphale, much sparer. The voice was a man's, but Warlock thought maybe it was a woman for a second from how lithe the person appeared. Even only in the moonlight, he could see pale skin clad in black long hooded robes. Their face turned downward to meet Warlock's agape gaze. Warlock ceased to breathe when they locked eyes.

The man had very angular thin features, again feminine but not, and hair that was midlength and dark looking against the black hood. But all that was secondary to his eyes. They were huge and golden. Blazing and enormous, larger than any human's he had ever seen before. 

**Huge and golden** . Like some animal. 

Warlock had been hypnotized in enough fear and wonder on the last day from random incidents, but now he was utterly defeated to find a proper rejoinder.

He recollected stories about witches, night creatures, demons, wizards, sorcerers maybe having golden eyes and felt himself cowering.

The Stranger never stopped his gaze and slipped into a stealthy grin, which terrified Warlock even more. The Stranger turned his face aside, still smirking, and coolly stated, "Now please, don't leave the barn and do anything stupid." 

"I won't," Warlock whispered, hugging the crossbow.

"Good."

The Lion let out another soft roar that sounded questioning.

The Stranger removed his hand from Warlock's shoulder and migrated to the open door.

"Wait! " Warlock hissed, dropping the crossbow and slipping behind the man. "You won't believe me, but there is a lion out there! A real lion! I never saw one before but I know it is! It's huge! And I think it just ate someone!" 

"Sssshhhhh!" the Stranger hissed. "I am very aware of that fact. Go to bed now, you need the sleep you delusional youth." 

Warlock couldn't pull his feet another step beyond the barn door as the Stranger slid outside. 

_ "Oh god, no, I did all I could. Maybe if he eats this guy too I won't get eaten..." _

All Warlock could see was the spiked bars of shadows from the trees falling over the hooded figure moving past the opening, and then the bouncing and grumbling of the enormous cat heading for him.

_ "I can't watch this." _

The Lion skipped towards the figure and raised, tackling him hard. The Stranger lifted his arms to catch around the animal's neck and almost staggered over.

And nothing changed. No screaming and strife. The Lion had its paws around the Stranger, who just stood in the same spot, arms wrapped around the mane. The Lion began rubbing its head against the Stranger, and Warlock saw the Strangers arms rubbing around the mane. 

_ "Like a playful housecat........."  _

After a nauseous eternity, the lion slipped down on all fours, still staring at the Stranger's face and making rumbling noises. The Stranger hunched down a little, still rubbing through the mane, stroking over the ears, staring at the cat's eyes. Was he talking to it? With a hand still on the mane, the Golden Eyed man and the Pale Lion began walking together, past the barn entrance. He heard The Man say things and the Lion seemed to hum in response. 

This was too much for Warlock who just started repeating, "It's a dream, all a dream, just a dream...."

"It IS a dream," the Stranger cut in, getting closer. "Now get some proper sleep, you idiot boy. You are going to need it."

Warlock dashed into the barn, flew up the rough-lumber ladder to the hayloft and cast himself into the endless bank of hay.

Good enough up here, even better than most of his nights before. He peered out from his hiding place through the top barn window nearby, spying the whole moonlit world outside.

As he dreaded, he witnessed the Stanger and his Lion walking towards the woods slowly. 

_ "Not a dream. An actual damn nightmare." _

He immediately fell into a deep sleep like he hadn't for ages.

It had been a long two days, after all. 


	4. Masks to wear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warlock wakes to a new day as if nothing happened the night before.  
> He confesses about the Lion and Stranger to Aziraphale who isn't perturbed but actually cryptic about it all.  
> Micahel returns to Tadfield and Gabriel realizes it time to deal with old problems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another filler setting in motion for major events. ;)

Michael spent the remaining part of the day combing the whole land for her Rival and The Rat. She broke down the search into several parties. They met back in the town at dusk with no luck. She barely rested a few hours that night before resuming the search. She could not possibly go back empty-handed especially after such an ominous experience. But the hours crawled on, the hills and keeps all became more expansive to search, and she knew her Bishop needed to know. Dawn hadn't even broken and she mounted a fresh horse and left her second in command in charge and taking just a few troops along. Her legs and lower body ached from riding, her heart slammed at the lack of rest trying to stay awake, and her rage never left. It would be a long ride to Tadfield. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

**"Haw!"**

Warlock stirred and began to wake, trying to recall where he was this morning.

_ Hay? _

He felt something moving through the hay, like a hand clearing it. He inhaled, trying to motivate himself when his drowsiness was stabbed with that sound again. "Haw!"

He felt more hay moving and heard wings giving small flaps. Crowley was perched atop the hay lump that was Warlock yanking off large beak fulls. Warlock moaned and leaned up, waving his arms, but Crowley had already hopped backward onto the floor. "Haw!" he said, popping up and down flapping his wings out.*

"Get up! Time to go!"

Warlock glared at him as he clawed hay from his own hair.

"Go away," was all he could muster in a mumble, not in a hurry to move.

"Ha!" Crowley barked, suddenly popping up with a simple flap, landing hard on the boy's head for an instant. In that instant, he flexed his claws tightly, flapped hard around his face and pecked him once on the top of his head. This was clearly the bird equivalent of a face slap.**

Warlock yelped and waved his arms, but the bird was airborne by then and circled out the window.

_ "Keep flying, bird. " _

"Up! Up! Time to go!"

Warlock gathered himself and went down the ladder. To his relief, Aziraphale was there, near the fire pit with a small fire.

To his surprise, Bentley was saddled and waiting, and most of the items had been put back in their bags.  _ "Wow, he must get up early. He even braided some of Bentley's mane?! Seeesh, must not have much of a social life outside of Crowley. That's kind of pathetic. " _

Aziraphale wasn't wearing all his armour, that was strapped up as tight as it could be. He still had on his surcoat and a traveling cape resting on the stall beside him. He spotted Warlock and beamed a smile.

"Good morning! Come over and have some bread and tea, and then we'll be on our way! I hope you slept well last night?" _ " _

_ No, I did not. I mean, I did when I got there but..... oh god, I can't explain this now. He'd think I was totally mad........?" _

"Uh, just fine, I guess," Warlock ventured, accepting the bread.

"That's good! It'll be a long day traveling and I hope you are rested up!"

Warlock was wolfing down the bread mindlessly as Aziraphle handed him a thin-sliced horn cup of tea***.

Warlock took the cup, happy his mouth was full so he didn't have to thank him right away.

_ "I should tell him, we might be in danger of a lion attacking us. And, that man! The Golden Eyes.... what if he's a wizard tracking us? Does he know Aziraphale? Maybe he's a demon who struck a bargain with him and Aziraphale needs a sacrifice to pay him back and that's me and....." _

He lost his rambling thoughts staring at Aziraphale’s surcoat front with a lion emblem stitched across it.

_ "A golden white... lion? That's...... just a coincidence? Well, that lion there has a halo over its head. Probably some religious meaning from before. Whatever he did before. " _

He swallowed hard on the dry bread and belted the tea down as he rekindled another memory.

_ "Oh god, please, I hate tea more than beer! It's like boiling old tree leaves in horse piss!" _

He hurriedly handed the empty cup back and muttered thanks. Aziraphale looked pleased as he packed it away.

"Glad you like it! I have more, when we break later I'll make it again. It's the perfect thing to chase away the chill and make conversation over with a friend."

_ "Oh god, please no, I'd rather chew rocks. " _

Crowley suddenly landed with a yap, craning his neck out at Aziraphale.

"Hey!" the bird lamented. 

"But we had our tea already," Aziraphale chided the Raven. He reached out and brushed over its head with a gloved hand and it simmered down some.

He then held the hand out in a familiar fashion as Crowley grumbled and stepped on.

"And when you are ready, Warlock," he said, grabbing up a cloak with the other hand, "We should be going. Ligur didn't want us lingering. "

_ "It probably doesn't matter what Ligur thinks anymore," _ Warlock barely refrained from saying aloud.

Aziraphale handed the cloak to Warlock and gestured for him to wear it with a wave of his hand and his ever pleasant grin. Warlock was shocked. People never gave him anything but a hard time or a reason to run. He clumsily put it on and let Aziraphale fuss the cloak pin in place (one-handed, no less, Crowley still perched on the other hand grumbling).

"Ah, there!" Aziraphale beamed when done with his fussing. "That should keep off the chill, it looks like there may be some fog in the valleys today."

Warlock knew he should thank him but was too sheepish.

"Say thank you!" Crowley chided as they headed for Bentley. "Ungrateful." 

~~~~~~~~

Aziraphale spurred the horse for miles and miles over countryside paths and forests, and Warlock mostly rode in front of him. Crowley slowly spun ahead of them, wheeling back and letting out a few squawks as though he were describing the on the coming road in whatever bird language he spoke. Occasionally Aziraphale would comment on something he found comment-worthy (and he could find a passing herd of cows interesting in the right light). The day had become more and more overcast and the drizzling fog Aziraphale had surmised eventually came to meet them.

Bentley slowed his trot and hung his head.

Towards the afternoon they were slowly plodding through another forested path when Aziraphale frowned as the dampness and declared it was time to break. 

"It's a perfect time," he said as he aided Warlock down from Bentley, "To have some tea."

_ "Ugh.........." _

Warlock tied Bentley to a tree as Aziraphale resourcefully made a small fire in a matter of minutes.

He was bursting to talk about last night so while he had his back turned he began casually.

"So, uhm, about last night?"

"Yes?" Aziraphale acknowledged, striking a perfect spark at the tinder.

"I saw a lion."

"A Lion?" he asked, sounding brighter than ever. "Are you sure?"

"Oh, yes!" Warlock assured him approaching the curling smoke.

"Are you sure it wasn't a wolf? Or a lynx? There aren't any lions around here."

"Oh no, I am more than sure!" Warlock gushed.

"It was huge, and had a tail and a big furry mane and roared loud!"

"Ack, " Crowley said, swooping onto the lowest tree branch. "Lies!"

"No!" Warlock insisted, raising his hands, "It was real!"

Aziraphale hadn't looked up from fanning the flame but gave his head a nod.

"Well, you seem certain so I trust you are telling the truth! What did your lion do?"

_ "Ate Ligur," _ was the first thing he wanted to say, but he figured he should keep his story safe.

"Well, I got scared of it and ran back to the barn," he ventured.  _ "Not lying there." _

"And then, I met a wizard, I think."

"A wizard?" Aziraphale puzzled, looking at him. The Knight leaned a hand against his knee in a pose that assured Warlock he was paying full attention. The Youth missed the quieter tone and softening around the edge of his eyes.

Warlock nodded and rambled on.

"Yes! I think he was. He... he was tall and scary! Like, he wore a black robe. And he had long hair and...and... oh yeah! Yellow eyes! They looked like an animal!" Aziraphale was hanging on his every word, but Warlock suspected from the tilt of his head he was skeptical.

"An animal?"

"Yeah! They were scary! Huge and golden and everything! I just pretended I wasn't scared at all and he left and...."

"Lies," Crowley interjected.

"Crowley, please, " Aziraphale scolded, "Warlock isn't done with his story. Do go on, Warlock."

"Well, he told me not to leave the barn. And he went out and met that lion."

"You don't say?" Aziraphale almost gasped, maybe a little too surprised.

"Yeah!" Warlock rushed. "But, get this; I think it was his pet he lost! It ran up to him like it was lost and happy to see him!"

Aziraphale seemed to be doing all he could to smother a smile.

"Aww, the Wizard found his lion? That's rather lovely," he admitted.

"Ughhhhhhhhh," Crowley scoffed.

Warlock felt as if the whole forest was pressing in on him in judgment.

_ "Does he believe me or is he just amusing me because I'm a kid? _ "

Aziraphale still had the softest smile on his face as he sat by the fire tossing some small branches. "Did this... wizard? Did he say anything else? What was he like?"

"He uhhh,...s _ aw me make an idiot of myself....... _ I uh, said this must be a dream and he told me it was. He was the scariest man I think I've ever seen. "

"Did he threaten you at all? Or did he just scare you?"

Warlock thought and then concluded; "Well, he just was scary. But he didn't seem to want to hurt me. He seemed like he wanted to find that lion, and it wanted to find him. He still looked terrifying."

Aziraphale held out his hand and Crowley swooped down to it. He was staring at the bird, still smiling as he began to answer.

"Well, appearances are not always what they appear. We all wear masks and covers. Some by choice, some by force. A man can be fearful by appearance but very kind by heart."

"Hey," Crowley growled.

Aziraphale blinked and resumed, looking slightly abstracted with his thoughts. "Yet, clearly the lion meant no harm, and missed his master?"

"I'd..... say. Yeah, I thought it was attacking him but it was hugging him and following him around."

Aziraphale Closed his eyes turned to his face more at the Raven.

"Well maybe it was a dream, but not a bad one. Maybe one day those dreaming it can wake to a fine morn with no masks." He leaned back against the tree and looked half asleep. "Let's get some rest, shall we? Let the fire build some. Crowley will let us know if anyone approaches."

Crowley took off and glided through the trees with a few hoots.

_ "WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT ABOUT? Did he even listen or was he bluffing around me because I am a kid? _ " Warlock just tightened his mouth and pulled his cloak tighter.

"I must be losing my mind," he muttered.

"You are," Crowley assured him as he looped by.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was midafternoon in Tadfield when a streaking ribbon of hoof-churned dust wound it's a way through the hills to the city walls. Michael had been returning with part of her unit, dispatching the others to try and continue their pursuit of Aziraphale with her second in command. Now she broke her horse ahead of her few exhausted men. She was wearied herself, but the duty drove her to get back to Gabriel as fast as her tired horse could, principally before any opprobrious defeat stories would reach the city as well. Men guarding on the walls saw her arrival and dropped the bridge. She didn't slow, didn't stop at the gate, didn't pause to give orders. The horse barreled towards the church, straight through the yard. She only reigned up the gasping animal to demand where the Bishop was and that no protests, she must see him now.

Gabriel was in the court, attending some flourished ceremony. Michael hadn't bathed, rested, changed out of her burnt and bloody clothes this whole time, and now stumbled into court looking wilted. Gabriel didn't even turn around as Michael approached, but began lecturing in his clear voice.

"Ah, Michael! Glad you are back. Of course, you cleaned up the little bit of misplaced business, I assume?"

A breath of silence lingered for a shake too long.

"I... did not, sir."

Gabriel twisted his head around and the sunshine of his voice and face were clouded by storm.

"You did NOT?" he hissed like he couldn't believe he heard that word. "You are letting Tadfield down. Then," he fully turned his body holding his hands out in a disdainful fashion, " WHY, Are you back? It seems like a shame for me to have to send you right back out to finish something you've failed with doubly."

He gave a dry forced grin that directed an answer. It also indicated Gabriel just noticed how foul Michael looked and smelled. Michael didn't pull herself up from her resting stand.

"Aziraphale has returned."

Gabriel's artificial smile blew away in a new storm and the fingers on his outstretched hands suddenly curled together into palms. Other clouds, not storms but a cold downpour of rain, were behind his eyes that suddenly strove to see something, not in front of him. He started to walk from the silent group, past Michael, not breaking his trance-like state.

"Walk with me, for a moment, would you," he absently ordered.

"So, the Beloved Angel of Tadfield has returned," Gabriel conceded after several quiet moments pacing with Michael towards the upper areas of the church. She let the silence build for a moment before replying. "Yes. With The Rat."

"And," Gabriel began with a pause, "is.... the....."

"The Raven?" she ventured.

Gabriel acknowledged by looking straight forward, clasping his hands together, and clenching his jaw.

"My men saw it. Several were attacked by it while trying to stop his escape."

Gabriel inhaled and gave a small pop of his eyes as if acknowledging something hard to say aloud.

"Hasn't changed, " he muttered. "He would still die for him. They would die for the other before submitting."

Michael remained silent.

"So, " Gabriel said with a clearing air, "It's time to deal with this. "

"I agree," Michael buffered with visions of revenge. "Keep your men searching, narrow down places. Do all we can to prevent the Knight and the thief near our city. One of them alone is hopeless trying to enter. Together?" He gave an acknowledging cackle. "That could be serious."

Michael inhaled and peeled off. "Of course."

"Oh Michael," Gabriel warned, stopping her in her steps. "Their lives mean nothing to me. The rewards await those who bring me their heads. The bird though..." He pressed his hands together and looked severe.

"It must not be harmed. If you or the men bring any harm to it, there will be a new Captain watching over your neck break on the gallows. Understood?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"Bring it back by any means. Unharmed." Gabriel said no more as Michael hurried away, and turned to press against the balcony.

" _ They return. The Brave Knight wants his due. He knows the risks and he has finally cracked and will risk them. _

_ He shall never get within a hundred miles of this church." _

Gabriel clapped his hands, and several of the circling friars on the ground floor looked upward for his command.

"Bring me Hastur!" he commanded.

He resumed his unshakable smirk.

"That will bring the Angel to a halt. And the Raven to me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * I have a pet crow. He loved to wake me in the morning by coming into my room and dutifully removing the sheets from over my head and getting excited when I moved.  
> ** Further crow experience, this is not a hurting attack. We called it 'bopping' where the bird sort of pounces you. Basically a flip off or scolding. More of a single peck and beat of wings to say 'Hey, you made me mad." Or even trying to pester/engage a threat to see how it reacts.
> 
> *** NOT a 'Viking' style cup made from a horn, but thin sheets of horn. These made exceptional durable and flexible travel cups.


	5. The darkness we wander

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warlock demands freedom and answers from his mysterious situation.  
> Aziraphale reveals part of his plan to return to Tadfield, which Warlock refuses and manages to escape.  
> But grim events bring everyone back together.

_Thwack._

Warlock drew back the sword and leaned forward to toss another large branch on his pile.

He raised the blade high again and brought it down on the branch's middle.

_Thwack._

It popped in half. He grinned.

He was getting the hang of Aziraphale's broadsword and how to efficiently chop the local branches into firewood. He had done this discreetly for the last few days and hadn't been caught yet. 

_"What he doesn't know doesn't hurt and, and makes my job easier. And way more fun!"_

The Knight and the Raven traveled a few days with Warlock in tow, clearly with some sort of path and mission. Warlock refrained from asking what that could be to this point. Aziraphale was utterly pleasant and a bearable person to be traveling with, and Warlock didn't want to break the trust there. 

Even Crowley wasn't such a bother but seemed jealous of the attention Aziraphale paid to Warlock at times. When they would break to rest and have that godawful tea, Azriraphale would hold he cup out to the bird who seemed to pretend to be looking elsewhere before dipping his beak in and taking a few sips. Warlock felt an eerie connection between both of them but always forgot to ask how he had captured and trained the bird.

Warlock also suspected that Aziraphale was probably troubled behind his convivial mask. 

_"Most adults are, but I don't really hang out with adults enough to care"._

Aziraphale always endlessly exuded pleasant calmness and an open heart but seemed quietly sorrowful at the corners of his glimmering eyes. Warlock would mention a fond memory or thought, and Azirphale would bring up something he did or enjoyed before, but always trail off about it being so long ago and before things changed.

Warlock even began to write out his own tragic love story for the knight when he caught that Aziraphale had weaved strips of blue material around his wrist. Like some sort of bracelet, maybe. Aziraphale certainly didn't seem like the jewelry wearing type, but definitely, one that would have a memento from a departed loved one. He never removed it

_"Probably from the lady he loved who was murdered. Or abducted and locked in a tower. Or carried off by a dragon. That would be kind of neat to see._ _Ha, but it's like the red cloth around his dumb Raven's leg. Weird."_

The days slid by the same. Warlock's whole mind was at ease with the safety and he felt restless with nothing pursing him. 

There had been no more guards. Yet. No strange wizards or lions in the night either, which made the whole prior events seem more like a dream.

But Warlock had been falling fast asleep for the last few nights, not bothering to wake until Crowley pestered him up. 

Trying to kill the doldrum, Warlock grudgingly set to the daily tasks of helping care for Bentley, polishing the armour (sooooo tedious and boring), pitching a camp, and learning a few new skills. It was less of learning and more of pretending to patiently listen to Aziraphale instruct him on how to do menial things.

He did learn how to cook over an open flame.

_"You really need a wife to do this...."_

And mending his clothes.

_"Sheesh, you are lonely and need to find a girlfriend. Mending my clothes?! I can steal new ones..."_

And gathering firewood, which he had found a fantastic solution to going out looking for perfect pieces. He could chop his own. But, not having an ax he was using Aziraphale's broadsword. 

_"He can't mind, it's all for a good cause. And what's the difference? They both are cutting blades. If he wants firewood, this will certainly make it happen faster!"_

He was proud of himself, making a small pile. Until Crowley appeared began to clearly chide him.

"Hey!" The bird squawked raising his wings. "Quit it!"

Warlock just gave him a greasy smile.

"Uh, yeah? And what are you gonna do about it? Chop it yourself?"

"HEY!" The Raven protested shaking his wings and raising every feather on his head. 

"Or, " he sneered, pointing the blade at the Raven, "TAKING this blade from me? Come on, Crowley. Ya' scared?"

"YOU!" Crowley screeched back, not moving. Warlock got a momentary chill staring into the stupid bird's eyes.

_"Why do they look so freaky and bright sometimes? Raven's have black eyes...."_

Warlock huffed some of his bangs from his face and turned back to his work.

"Yeah, well," he yanked another log onto the pile, "If you know so many words you can tell your master when he is around!"

He raised the blade high again when he felt a fist grab his hands. He thought the sword might roll from his grip but another hand grabbed that. He cringed as Crowley laughed and Aziraphale began talking behind him. 

"I thought the blade looked dull! Really, my boy, you should ask for an ax." 

He pulled the blade away as Warlock sheepishly turned around. 

Aziraphale didn't seem intimidating by nature, but there was a nagging sensation that told Warlock that he hadn't seen something about the former knight that could be fatal. Or a side he controlled until the moment required, and it could be frightening.

Aziraphale stood with a bemused expression, holding the sword. He suddenly held it aloft looking down the length of the blade, squinting.

"Rather dull! This sword has been in my family for generations and never seen a day without a honed edge and proper respect."

"Ha!" Crowley hooted like this jab was particularly delicious.

Warlock rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, uhm," he muttered, " Well, I know you have that other longsword strapped to the saddle and..."

"MY sword!" Crowley barked.

Warlock swallowed his anger and continued. ".... I figured you wouldn't care if I just chopped some wood with that little sword..."

" 'Little' sword?" Aziraphale challenged, raising his brows.

"It's a wonderful broadsword, for your edification. This blade has seen me through much and is etched with a line of destiny. It shall see us through to the end."

_"Us?! Oh for the love of it, now he's in love with his sword or some ridiculous prophecy or something....."_

"And for that," Aziraphale continued in a tone that threatened a long lesson, "It must be sharp." 

He seated on a fallen tree, pulled out his water canteen and then a whetstone from a side pocket which he wetted with some water from the canteen. He moved between swiping along the blade in single broad strokes and rewetting with the stone.

"The art of sharpening," he started helpfully narrating between the rasping arising from the stone meeting steel, "Is not a back and forth motion, but single strokes along the blade. We don't have a grinding wheel here, so I make do with a whetstone. The water creates the fine slurry to hone the edge...." *

_"Oh my god, Oh dear lord, save me now. Strike me with lightening and send me to where you see fit. My body is ready. I am not going to endure this a moment longer. I did my part, I've been very helpful and haven't stolen a thing for days. It's time for the Rat to say his dues and part ways with a very lonely Knight trying to teach me how to sharpen a stupid sword!"_

"Hey, Aziraphale," he brightly began, clasping his hands together. "We've had a great time together and I have learned so much from you. Can't thank you enough for that, especially the sewing lessons. But I think after all this back-breaking labor, it's time for me to move on."

Aziraphale shook the excessive wetness from the stone before returning it to the bag.

"Oh?" he said, a little too broadly, not looking up from his motions.

_"Uh oh, he's been waiting for me to say this and already has an answer..."_

"Yeah, I mean, all these days of work have surely paid off my debt a couple of times, don't you think?" 

Creeping up was that hidden look about Aziraphale that worried Warlock. The Knight pulled his head back a bit and gave the most dubious brow raise. 

"Hardly," Crowley weighed in. 

Aziraphale nodded at his Raven. "Sorry, but I have to agree with Crowley here."

Warlock crossed his arms. "Oh c'mon! I've done enough and I am not cut out for this knight stuff! It's best if we part here and now and I go about my way and stop being such a burden to you. And Crowley, he seems to hate me."

"Hmmmm," Crowley hummed in a sarcastic tone.

Aziraphale sighed, still holding the broadsword, stood up. He wasn't tall as many men, but he was certainly taller than an eleven-year-old boy and gazed down on Warlock. 

"Fine, I shall be fully forthright with you then, how would that be?"

Warlock jutted his chin, crossed his arms, and tried to look unscared and even haughty. Internally, he felt his stomach churn. 

_"And here it comes...."_

"I need your assistance to secretly guide me back into the fortified city of Tadfield to destroy the Lord Bishop Gabriel, bring about the end of his cruel reign on the righteous souls within AND to revenge the one I love by breaking a scourge that separates us brought on by the very same Bishop ." He said all that, unblinking, unwavering, seemingly not even breathing in his perfect voice.

Crowley let out a stream of caws and flapped his wings that sounded like a final word.

Aziraphale's expression didn't change and he added his final word as well; 

"That's my final word and you have no choice in the matter."

Warlock was dumbstruck.

"You want ME to take you back? To that horrible dungeon, I escaped from? No way!"

"But you are the only one to escape," Aziraphale firmly reminded.

"Hey, I was lucky! I think it was a miracle and I can't repeat it! Haven't you ever heard the saying that God does not play around and strike with two miracles?!"

Aziraphale narrowed his eyes is a mild offense.

"You are mixing up your metaphors, my dear boy. Lightning doesn't strike twice and God does not play dice."

Crowley let out a few chuckles.

Warlock tossed his head and flapped his arms in frustration, his coltish hair flopping around. 

"Stupid metaphors! Who cares! I will not return and you can't ask it of me! I am a kid! Not a knight! You are asking a kid to risk his life to do your work!"

Aziraphale did give a small nod to that.

"True. I understand what I will ask of you is more than most men would be able to handle. But I can only implore of you your help. You are the only person to come from where I must return to end a malediction of unspeakable proportions. Not just for the once beautiful city, I cherish that lays bound in religious chains, but also for the rend between my love and life. That is all."

"Well, that's a very fancy way of saying all that," Warlock puffed. _"Whatever the hell he's trying to say."_

"But I can't go back to that stupid hellhole and can't get involved in whatever is wrong with the love of your life. If your girlfriend is locked in the church tower and you want her back, well, too bad. Send Crowley to save her, I'm not your man. Now, goodbye forever and good luck on your quest." 

Warlock spun around and began marching off.

_"What's he going to do? Stop me? Chop me down with his sword? He's probably too sheepish to attack a kid now that I've guilted him with....."_

He felt a jab and clawing on the back of his head, along with the beating of wings.

**_"Stupid bird!"_ **

Warlock waved his arms trying to grab Crowley, but Crowley seemed to be everywhere at once and shockingly precise with his blows. Warlock veered around and felt an armoured glove grabbing the back of his neck.

_"Aww, dammit. He sure can be a lot stronger than he lets on sometimes."_

"So sorry, Warlock," Aziraphale apologized in a wearied tone. 

"But you leave me with no choice"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The moon was already sliding up slowly as a figure moved through the trees. 

Warlock's eyes had adjusted to the twilight as he watched the figure move from tree to tree base. Of course, they were adjusted, he had been tied to a tree this for the last few hours. Aziraphale was even more apologetic than ever as he tied Warlock's arms behind a tree. He said that since Warlock couldn't be trusted not to leave, he had to keep him in one spot like that. 

Warlock surprised himself by how unsurprised he felt.

 _"Yeah, I guess that would be the only way to make me stay in one place._ " 

But the strangest thing was that Aziraphale left, promising he'd return by morning. No explanation. That had Warlock in a silent state of fear. He had counted on Aziraphale being literally there, but all that was left was Bentley tied to a tree nearby. And making matters worse, he couldn't get off the ropes. He had slipped off many chains, cuffs, and ropes in his life. It was the innate talent many 11-year-old boys had. But Aziraphale managed to tie the most secure knot Warlock had encountered.

The moon was fairly bright, even in a waning phase, and made the world visible enough.

The forest was silent except for a few nocturnal noises, so Warlock heard someone approaching before he saw them. The figure moved from among the slender young trees, towards the where Bentley and the gear were by a small grotto of rocks. 

Warlock felt queasy as he guessed the only person it could be. Long black robes on a tall figure, it had to be the wizard he encountered. 

Sure enough, he could see the moonlight reflecting off those eyes as The Man drew closer to the camp, looking around slowly. He was scanning for something or someone. 

"Ye gods, what is going on tonight?" he heard the Man hiss as he kept looking around, like he was searching for someone specific.

Warlock knew it was his only chance, so he cleared his throat.

"Uh, hey there! Remember me."

The Man snapped his gaze on Warlock.

"Oh. There you are. The boy who let the crossbow punch him in the teeth."

"Yep! That's me! My name is Warlock!" he assured brightly.

"..... What are..... you..... doing tied to a tree, Warlock?"

The Man slowly stumbled the words out, at a total loss and did seem genuinely worried.

"Oh uh, well, that!" Warlock started, mentally fumbling with the best lie to get cut loose.

"Yeah, THAT," the Man said still looking mildly disturbed, awaiting an answer. "Why?"

"Oh, well, the Bishop's Guards! They tied me here and said they'd get me in the morning!"

The Man crossed his arms. 

"Hmmm, strange they left a horse here. Even stranger they just.... left you."

"Well, they were very busy and tired and said they had to ask one of the Captains for permission and..."

The Man let out a cackle and had a wolfish expression on his face.

"I'm reeeally skeptical here. I am betting you are tied there for a reason because you would run away otherwise? Did you behave badly today perhaps?"

Warlock decided not to answer but try a different approach.

"Say, sir? Are you a wizard?"

"A WHAT?" the man scoffed as if the very word offended his soul.

"You know, a wizard! Like, you look like a wizard to me!" 

The Man moved his hands over his hips and his posture became even more offended looking.

"So this is what a wizard looks like, huh?"

"Well, okay. Wizards have beards and pointy hats, I guess. So are you... uh, maybe a witch then?"

" **REALLY**?" The Man's mouth just hung open a little as he glared. 

"Yeah! you know you just seem.... uh, witchy! With the uhhh, long hair... and the black dress..... and your...... eyes..."

Warlock began to fear he taking the wrong path here, as the Man recrossed his arms, turned his head sideways, drew an exaggerated breath and began in a bored tone.

"First, this isn't a dress. Second, my features do not define me as a witch. Third, witch is usually a title given to the female half of that occupation. You have any idea what a man of that variety would be called?"

"Uhh, .... wotch...?? Waaatch??" 

" A warlock."

This took a few seconds for the youth to get, and when he did he did feel a surge of excitement.

"Really?! Wow! I did not know that!!!"

"I'm shocked," The Man mockingly groaned.

"Cool! Are you a warlock?!"

"No, I'm a sorcerer if you want to be specific." The Man seemed to let that sit as if expecting a negative reaction.

Witches and warlocks seemed dark enough, but the word sorcerer immediately pulled up a repugnant and very dark image for Warlock. 

_"The people adults say to avoid, you can't trust, they take souls, they are selfish secretive creatures, they use Dark Arts..._ "

"Uh, can you.... uh, do magic? Like, I dunno, turn iron into to gold or..."

"That's an alchemist. You mixing your occupations up."

"Oh. Right.... uh, I dunno, shoot fire balls from a wand or staff?"

"That's a wizard. Really, if you are going to keep mixing your classes up, I don't have all night to educate you."

"Well, can you do ANYTHING?" Warlock dared.

The Man looked thoughtful and snapped his fingers. From his fingertips flew a flurry of fiery golden sparks.

"Wow!" Warlock gushed.

"Yeah. Truly an amazing feat in deep knowledge of the Dark Arts," The Man ridiculed. 

"Now, Warlock, if you will excuse me, I need to get back to what I'm not really good at; hunting rabbits. Have a pleasant evening."

The Man turned and started to leave.

"Oh! I can hunt rabbits!" 

The man stopped and turned back around slowly.

"Uh-huh?" he queried. 

"Sure! I chase them down into brush piles and can catch them! Seriously! I am great at it! I've done it my whole life! So, please cut me loose!" 

The Sorcerer exhaled and resumed a dubious tone. "Well, you know, you COULD save me from the humiliation of running around. Because it would be stupid for you to run from a sorcerer and all. I might catch you and cut your beating heart out and eat it in front of you during an occult ritual. You know."

"Right! I'd never be that stupid! So PLEASE? Please?"

Warlock craned his head as far around as he could and gave the Sorcerer an innocent grin.

"Pretty please?"

The Man tightened his lips and muttered as he approached Warlock.

"I feel I might regret this, but..."

"Oh you won't! I'm really good at this, I'm telling you!"

Warlock sustained the perfect grin as The Man came closer and unsheathed a long knife from under his robes. Internally he was paralyzed with terror, even as he felt the ropes around his wrist being cut. 

He felt his arms pop free and stood up rubbing his wrists, saying over-enthusiastic thanks. 

"Now," the Man opened like he was reminding Warlock of something he forgot, "as we were just....."

He stopped his talking when a roar from deep in the forest arose. He turned to the sound and listened, as it rolled through the trees again.

"Uh, Warlock? " he whispered, starting to turn back where the boy had been, "I need you to..... "

Warlock was gone. 

_"Oh gods, yes, I just fell for that, didn't I?" _

He bared his teeth and groaned loudly.

Warlocks fading yell emerged from a distance to answer. 

"Ha, played you for a sucker! So long! You can tell Aziraphale he ties a really wicked knot!"

The Man thoughtfully sighed, spinning the blade on his finger tip before snapping it back and sheathing it.

"I know."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aziraphale pressed Bentley along the hilltop as day broke. The days were shortening and cooling, but this morning was more pleasant than the last few, crystal clear and mild. He moved at a leisurely pace, not only because Warlock was gone, but Crowley was oddly absent. After a short ride, the familiar caws approached, and Aziraphale held out and hand for the bord to glide up to.

"Good Morning, my dear!" he greeted. "It appears Warlock was cut free last night."

The Raven grumbled something.

"Let's go find him then, shall we?"

The Raven muttered more and flew off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Rat thought maybe he was far enough in the unknown countryside he was past any danger.

But as soon as the sun rose he heard the flurry or horses and men peeling over the hills and was dismayed to see Tadfield soldiers. 

_"Dammit, I've traveled far enough I could be in China by now.... why are they still chasing me?!"_

The landscape was more sparse here, more fields and small hovels and fewer trees to hide behind, and it was like the last few unpursued days were being made up for. Warlock was trying to lay very low in every sense, flattened on the ground as another soldier rode by on a horse. 

_"Man, I really picked the wrong day to bale on Aziraphale. I could really use him right now....."_

He was focused so intently on a guard passing at the foot of the hill where he was flattened, he didn't notice another strolling up behind him. Until he felt his belt being grabbed. 

Warlock was hustled down to the small base camp where the unit was waiting. He didn't see Michael anywhere but cringed when he recognized her second in command; Sandalphon. 

Sandalphon got an unctuous grin his round face as Warlock was rough handed towards the camp.

"Well, well, well," he coldly greeted. "The Rat finally ran into the cats, eh? So, where is Aziraphale?"

_"Ah, they want him, not me? Might be able to bye some time...."_

"Oh, uh, Aziraphale?" Warlock asked. "Uhhh, lemme think? Oh yeah! Funny looking guy who likes tea, big black horse? He was headed South. Most definitely South, Yeah."

Another guard snorted. "Well, then head North, Sandalphon."

"Hey!" Warlock retorted, "I said South! Not North! Are you calling me a liar!"

Sandalphon resumed his cattish grin.

"Thinking about it, Rat, you probably assumed we would, and might be giving him a chance to run. Nice try, but I think we'll head South. Bring him, and release the bird."

Warlock groaned loudly. "Awww, jeez!," He moaned as he got yanked along "Lord! You are sending me mixed messages! I told the truth and this is what you are doing to me! I am just gonna lie from here on out! You got it?!"

The aforementioned bird was a large hawk one of the men had perched on his heavily gloved arm. He removed its little hood covering its whole head and whispered at it, "Find them. Find the knight. Find the black bird."

It tore off with a red and brown flash of feathers, screeching. **

Warlock had his hands tied and was being yanked up onto a saddle behind one of the men, feeling a bit queasy. All the men were silently loading crossbows and speaking in hushed tones. 

_"Oh no, Aziraphale, don't come this way..."_

A gag was forced across his mouth.

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

Aziraphale trotted past the hay stacks and huts, oddly devoid of human activity. Looking back and forth, he knew it had become too quiet.

Warlock was on the hill above him, silently pulling his tied arms over his head while trying not to disturb the guard seated on the horse before him.

_"It pays to stay flexible, a bonus when you are born a thief..."_

Aziraphale started reaching for his crossbow and fussing lose the strap holding it. Then he heard a hawk calling over his head. 

_'Kee-kee-keeeeeeee" ._ He noticed it, wheeling above in a vortex above him.

_"An alarm. I'm spotted."_

~~~~

Warlock pulled at his gag and tried to shout. The soldier in front of him spun an elbow around so fast Warlcock didn't know what hit him and plummeted off the horse. 

Just as Crowley swooped over him, cawing madly.

~~~

Crowley pulled in his wings and doubled his speed down the slope.

"AZIRAPHALE! AZIRAPHALE!!! HERE!" he screeched. "MANY! MANY! ALL AROUND!"

Aziraphale turned his attention from the hawk, and whipped Bentley towards the slope, setting in heels Bentley. He began charging up the hill, lips pressed tightly together with a determined expression.

Sandalphon raised an arm and shouted, and soldiers suddenly poured from anywhere they could. Some from behind or on buildings, others tore across the field from all angles. 

Aziraphale had just gotten the crossbow loose and leveled as the first two thundered his way. He checked Bentley, who still reared and bucked, but gave the men one moment of grace before firing a bolt at each.

"You had your chance!" he concluded as he re-pressed Bentley to move.

~~

The hawk shrieked incessantly like a herald over the chaos until Crowley broadsided it. Hawks normally have a predatory advantage over other birds, but Crowley was on top of it shrieking and diving. It tried to bank and turn, but Crowley kept haggling it from above viciously. ***

It couldn't fight back and began fleeing while Crowley still pestered it. The falconer who released it looked up in dismay. "Hey!!! Leave her alone, you stupid evil raven!" He hoisted his crossbow upward towards Crowley.

~~

Aziraphale pulled out the longsword as another guard wheeled by with a crossbow. Just then he felt a bolt sting his side. He crumpled slightly but didn't let go of the blade, and he righted himself. He heard Warlock shouting something about Crowley.

No, _to_ Crowley.

"Run Crowley! He's gonna shoot you!!! Fly! Do something!!"

And then Sandalphon's angry shouts cut in the chaos. "NO! You idiot! We have orders, don't shoot that bird! Shoot Aziraphale!!!"

The next thing Aziraphale heard was Crowley screaming and he looked up to see him flapping his wings frantically. Erratically, like he was trying to paddle through the water. And he was falling from the sky.

The pain from the shot had his heart pounding and now he couldn't see straight. He grabbed the bolt and yanked hard.

He spurred Bentley and yelled as he came upon Sandalphon mounted on his horse. Sandalphon gave a leer and raised a blade, leaning to meet Aziraphale, who ducked the head cut and jabbed the bolt he was still holding into Sandalphon's side. Hard and deep.

Sandalphon's horse trotted away aimlessly as the man's body crumpled off to the ground. The final falconer soldier with the crossbow saw Aziraphale charging and ditched his weapon, laying his spurs into his horse, tearing away as fast as he could. 

Warlock had been plotting his escape in the action but paused when Crowley was targeted. As much as he hated that bird, Crowley was fighting to help and it didn't seem fair to let him get hit.

But the falconer did hit him, and Warlock heard the primal screams and saw a spray of feathers as the bolt pierced the Raven's body.

Crowley was flapping like he was trapped in a small circle, erratic and unfocused. He fell downward, one leg reaching up and scratching madly at the bolt projecting from his chest. He was already on the ground when Warlock came running to find him. He had his wings tented on either side and would giving them feeble flaps that made him more tousled by the moment. His mouth was wide open, he was panting madly with his narrow tongue bobbing back and forth. His eyes glimmered madly with golden flashes. Warlock heard Bentley pounding over the hill behind him and pull up nearby. 

"No, no..." Aziraphale whimpered, clutching his side as he dismounted. " **No**!" he exclaimed when his fears were confirmed.

Crowley flapped more and rasped. "Ahhhh, ahhh, Ahhziraaa..."

Aziraphale slowed his approach holding an arm out as he kneeled beside the bird. "Stop moving," he whispered. Crowley still was breathing heavily but looked upward to Aziraphale.

"Ahh, Aziraaa...a....phaaale?" 

"I'm here. I'm sorry," he whimpered. He turned to Warlock who stood silently behind him. 

"Get some cloth from the saddle bag! Hurry, please!"

Aziraphale opened both hands and approached the bird.

"Don't!" Crowley objected trying to flap and stagger away.

"Sorry, I must," Aziraphale apologized as he tackled Crowley.

Crowley was shrieking louder as Aziraphale clamped his wings to his sides. Crowley head gave a few bobs as he tried to wiggle free but couldn't, so he tried to snap his beak on his fingers. This was to no avail since they were gloved. Aziraphale pressed one side of the bird to his chest, pinning one wing as he freed his hand to try and pull on the bolt. It wouldn't move easily, lodged between the neck and a wing, poking from through the Reven's body out it's back. Aziraphale was fighting back tears for feeling so helpless as Warlock jogged up and help up some rags. Aziraphale composed himself. 

"Do as I say," he commanded holding up the still restrained Crowley.

"Wrap that around his wings so they won't move."

"NO!" Crowley screamed. 

Warlock began swaddling around the whole body as Aziraphale struggled to slide his hands out of the way while still holding. After securing several wraps, Warlock was instructed to tie up the feet as well, which Crowley objected to as well. Crowley was swaddled except for his panting head. Aziraphale was clutching the bundle, hyperventilating before he turned to look at the sun. 

_"How did it get so late?"_

_"_ Warlock, listen to me. Do me a final favor and I shall consider your debt paid." 

Warlock stood rigid and waited. 

"Get on the horse, take Crowley, follow that path for several miles, and go to the ruins at the end. A man is there who can do what I cannot to save Crowley."

"Oh give it up, Aziraphale," Warlock said, feeling like he had to be honest to a man blinded by the moment. "He's as good as dead..."

Warlock discovered that side of Aziraphale he was afraid to meet when the Knight grabbed his shirt and yanked him hard to his face.

"He IS NOT! He can and will still live! Do as I say or I shall spend my remaining days hunting you down! Do you understand?" His blue eyes flamed and his features were infuriated. 

"Can't you do it yourself? Or go with me?" he muttered pulling away as the grip was released.

"No. I can't for reasons you will understand later. And my injuries are my own to attend." Warlock finally noticed Aziraphale hadn't worn his armour and was bleeding steadily. Warlock felt a tiny pang of responsibility to how bad this whole day had gone.

Fine, he'd do this.

Warlock managed to hoist himself on top of the giant horse. Though the stirrups were shortened, he felt ridiculously sprawled on the top of Bentley. 

Aziraphale was clutching Crowley who was making occasional noises. He couldn't stop the tears now and brought his face down to kiss Crowley on the top of his head once. Warlock heard him whisper between gasps.

"You have to be the brave one now. For me."

He gingerly passed the bundle to Warlock, who was trying to figure a way to cradle it and hold the reins. 

"No. No," Crowley was whimpering. 

"Sorry, " Aziraphale choked. "But I must."

Aziraphale was looking pale and shaky as he gave his final warning.

"Know this and tell the person who shall need to hear it; the darkness where I am looking everywhere and see now would be nothing compared to the darkness of knowing I will be alone for my remaining days."

_"I'll try and remember that....."_

Aziraphale slapped Bentley on the rump and the horse sped off.

Warlock was clutching on tight with his legs, glancing back for one final look.

Aziraphale was folding on himself, one arm clutching his bleeding side, the other raised to his face as he began sobbing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * You can't rub a dry stone across a blade to sharpen it. Movies depict this incorrectly most of the time. Whetstones are an artform to use. 
> 
> ** Not implying the hawk is another enchanted person, more of if this a fantasy world with magic, consider it a gifted trained bird for spotting enemies.
> 
> *** Even little corvids, like blue jays, will attack hawks or other corvids with surprising skill. Hawks have amazing agility and can be lethal, but if a crow/jay/raven gets the right angle, it can make it hell for the other bird. And they are shockingly fast and brutal when they want to be.


	6. Ladycrowe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warlock and Crowley reach a fallen ruin and find an equally fallen Brother named Shadwell.  
> The secrets are revealed to save the injured Raven Crowley who is revealed to be the Sorcerer Warlock keeps encountering.  
> Gabriel enlists help from an old accomplice.  
> Shadwell draws Warlock into the whole history of the curse and how it happened while Warlock tries to warm up to Crowley.  
> Bonus, flashback!

"I feel like an apple bobbing in the water," lamented Warlock aloud, teeth clattering from the horse's bounding steps.

"And now that I think about it, I could eat an apple right now."

Bentley didn't cease with his fast trot. His feet seemed to know where to go, even when the path became vague to Warlock's eyes.

The countryside he bounced along remained sparse and sparser. He passed several dilapidated settlements that had been destroyed years ago and time was adding its final ruin to. 

"Must have been a war or something years ago, this seems to be a dead area."

The sun was getting lower and lower, and he was getting alarmed Bentley might not stop. " _ What do I do? How do I deal with an oversized horse? If I try and stop him, could I tell him to go again or not?" _

He was also trying to ignore Crowley because the Raven wasn't saying anything. He was also getting a creeping dread as he felt wetness to the bundling around him. Blood.

_ "What if all the blood drained out before I get to where I am supposed to go?" _

He continued to add to his growing fears wondering how Aziraphale would be hunting after him.

Warlock's mind and back end were stinging with numbness when Bentley finally slowed. His panic was momentarily dashed when he noticed on the horizon a shape.

_ "Looks like an... Old fortress? Destroyed in a war? Or maybe by a dragon."  _

It wasn't a huge castle, but more likely a fortified outpost, and it too was heading back to its maker like everything else in this land. The whole structure slumped on the side of a stone cliff, huge segments of the wall were slipping down. Large parts of the stone foundation were also strewn farther from their original settlements. 

_ "Must have been a good fortress at one point, sort of easy to defend upon those rocks. Looks like it's defending days are over. _

Crowley let out a noise, which gave Warlock new energy.

"Oi!"

"Is this the place?" Warlock asked eagerly, looking down towards Crowley. The round corvid eyes glimmered with sparks. 

"It had better be. And at least you are still alive. I was figuring I should chuck you off a few miles back..... ouch!"

The Raven's head suddenly struck upward and grabbed Warlock's nose. He let go in an instant, but that smarted and Warlock hoped he wasn't cut. *

"Oww! Ungrateful pigeon! You'd better not do that again or I WILL just toss you here and now! Sheesh."

He entered the crumbling yard littered with decaying wood and boulders and came to raised draw bridge that looked surprisingly functional.

Bentley paused and the place was quiet as he waited in the shadow of this falling heap of stone walls. 

"Uhhh, HELLO? Anyone there?"

Warlock almost fell out of the saddle when he heard a rough man's voice respond from above, up upon one of the wall turrets.

"G'day! Who are ya? "

An older man materialized on the wall, staggering to the edge and squinting down. He was disheveled as if he just rolled out of bed. Years ago. He was unshaven, and his scraggly hair blew about. His frock was a simple cassock that looked like friar's robe, perhaps. He seemed suspicious and edgy, but also keen on meeting whoever was down there. 

"Uh, hello! My name is Warlock!" 

"Ah, hello there Warlock!" the man greeted, smiling some. Too enthusiastic, and Warlock noticed he was holding a bottle in one of his hands. And swaying in an inebriated manner. 

" _ Oh boy, this could take awhile...  _ Uh, hi! I was just coming this way because I have this, uh, Raven, that was shot with a crossbow...."

The man let his jaw drop and gawked in astonishment.

"Ye did?! A wee lad like yerself? Brought din that bird! Well done!" He gave an animated invite by swinging his arm. 

"I'll lower the bridge, ye kin comin' up here! You start pluckin', I'll build a fire!"

_ "I don't think this is what Aziraphale wanted, but I could be wrong..." _

"Idiots!" Crowley muttered quietly.

"Uh, mister, we can't eat him. You see, he belongs to another man and is very special to him. His name is Crowley... the bird I mean! The man who owns him is..."

"Aziraphale," the man gasped, dropping his bottle onto the walk where he stood.

"Phew! Yes, that's right, and Crowley is really hurt and ...."

"BRING HIM UP 'ERE! You hear me, boy?!" 

The drawbridge suddenly creaked down and Bentley trotted across it. 

The ruffled looked man was loping towards him on the horse, looking terrified, muttering madly.  _ "He looks like a monk to me, he has a rope belt around his robes. Maybe the last of some order? Order of the Lonely Drunk Brotherhood." _

Bentley stopped as the man reached them. Warlock was only at a loss for a moment as the man reached out to help Warlock slide down. 

"Follow me, lad!" he ordered, eyeing the bundled bird.

"Shot, was he?" the man asked, taking a deep breath.

"Uh, yes. the Bishop's Guards..."

The Brother made a loud noise and Warlock feared he answered something offensive already.

"Curses!" the man growled and Warlock followed him over a narrow wooden bridge. "Damn me hide! Oh, and watch where you step! Stick to the left, will ye, or you could fall. Gaddam stupid Guards." 

Warlock was trying to follow wherever the ambling man stepped but grew nervous at the crumbling structure around him. Everything was a place to slip and plummet to a death.

They finally came to a door and went inside. The room was filled with the normal clutter of any dwelling, and the expected clutter of a single unkempt human living in as well. Items scattered, table overflowing with dusty books and old cups, and a respectable count of empty bottles. Nothing too surprising to Warlock. But there was a hearth with some embers where the Brother instructed Warlock to set Crowley on a pile of blankets. 

"God, this had better be the guy that Aziraphale asked for," Warlock sighed as he gently placed The Raven down. Warlock was feeling ill looking at the blood on his hands as he waited for a sign.

"Uhhm, so, can you fix him up? Back to new? I'm kind of in a debt here and need Crowley flying and back to being his nasty self."

The man was transfixed by the Raven, staring at it, and answered without removing his gaze. 

"I kin. But it will take time." He then turned and looked out a crude small window.

"Ah. Sun is almost down. Ye best be leavin' boy."

"But, but! Wait,! Aziraphale said I must be responsible for this! I can help!"

The man started hustling him out the door.

"You will, but not here! Not now! Take that beast Bentley to stable below and treat him like ye should! Do not come here until I say ye can, understand? " 

Warlock groaned. "But, I gotta be there! If anything goes wrong..."

"If anythin' goes wrong, I'll be the first to be killed, I promise ye!" The Man huffed pushing him hard out the door.

The door slammed shut, and Warlock felt adrift.

The Brother rubbed his face and stepped once towards the bundle. The Raven was nodding in and out and breathing hard, beak open.

"Aziraphale did right. I can probably save ye. So sorry for ya, Crowley. Let's hope the mix that ye showed me still kin do it's trick, eh? " He stared out the window and sighed. "Looks like rain, Probably a storm. Don't I know it."

Warlock lead Bentley around till he found an unsurprisingly collapsing barn yard area. The stable was partially in the side of the hill, almost a cave. Thunder was starting to sound in the distance and the sky accelerated in darkness as clouds climbed over the horizon. He pulled Bentley inside and found plenty of old stables to choose from. Only one was occupied by a sullen looking mule. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aziraphale staggered against a tree, body heaving.

The wind was rising and thunder rolled closer than before. 

His vision was blurring and he couldn't hold his body upright, still clutching his side. "The bolt just bounced off my ribs, but it hurts so very much. So very much. Where have they gone? Why am I alone. So alone. So alone and I can't even see your face anymore."

He felt wrung out from crying so much, so tender from his injury, so exhausted. He tried to raise up but felt a yank from inside.

"Why? Why ?" He was winching as he stared up one last time as the moon showed it's waning face briefly beofre storm clouds covered it.

"We loved the nights. The Moon. the stars. You had a name for every star... AGH... why is .... like the first time it happened? I think it can't be happening...... again!" 

His body was heaving against his own will and thoughts and he tried to run forward but was falling. He yanked at his surcoat, tearing off his gloves. "the same...every...... night..." he lamented, his vision blurring more . He could still see, and feel the claws on the end of his fingers, growing longer.

"Oh god, please no. Ughh! Crowley....."

Lightening snapped and then thunder pounded close by, and an animal roar answered back.

The White Lion stood up fully, and roared again. 

Angry. Lost. Asking. 

Warlock was hiding on the ledge above the doorframe where he had been expelled from, waiting. The sun had just dipped out of sight, and thunder was starting to hammer. He heard occasional movements inside and saw firelight radiating from the windows and cracks in the door. 

After an infuriating amount of monotonous time passed, to Warlock's satisfaction, The Brother came bustling out muttering to himself.

"I need thyme. Yes, mebbe some red clay. And where the hell did I have that old vinegar. Eh, hope I dinnit' drink that up...." he shuffled off.

_ "Now is my chance to sneak in and check on Crowley! Surely Aziraphale will show up and want to know! And who knows what else I may find in here. Something to steal. Or at least food. Food would probably be good. _ " The door was still ajar from The Brother's departure, perfect!

Warlock quietly closed the door behind himself and turned, scanning the room. It was much darker but candles and lamps were lit about, as well as the now blazing fire in the hearth. He investigated to see where Crowley had been but his body arrested in a panic. He hadn't counted on a person being in the room, yet there was and he couldn't hide, so pressed against the door. The person was covered in some of the old blankets that had been by the fire.

By the fire where he had been told to leave Crowley. 

For one moment all Warlock could make out was long, bare, white arms, with their hands clasped up near their neck. And red wavey hair of medium length. Warlock thought it was perhaps a woman until the person's head turned, almost looking at him upside down before laboring to turn over. 

Golden Eyes stared back pleadingly.

It all slammed on top of Warlock as he pressed back hard against the door hoping it would magically open and he could run. It was the Golden Eyed man he had encountered before. His hair was long and red which he couldn't see in the dark before. He was laying under a pile of blankets and furs in agony at the crossbow bolt protruding from his collarbone.

_ "Wow, he got shot too? So weird...." _

Warlock felt suddenly faint from this fantastic information he was trying to comprehend, and at the sight of the blood.

The Sorcerer looked desirous and gasped when he saw Warlock.

"Aziraphale?!"

"What...." Warlock gasped, hoping the man didn't think he was Aziraphale. He had no recourse of dealing with that right now.

"Aziraphale?!" the man rasped, looking lost. "Is he hurt?"

Warlock teetered between lying that he was totally fine or the truth.

"Uhhh, a little," Warlock wavered. "But, he'll be fine! It was just a scratch! He wanted...... us....... to be safe first, he said he could handle himself."

That didn't seem to soothe the man, who was trying to prop himself on an arm while the other hand clutched at the bolt. Warlock saw there was a woven bracelet around one wrist, red fabric.... _ "Like Aziraphale's..... and like the one around the Raven's leg...." _

The Man looked more distressed and he slid back down, grimacing and staring at the ceiling. 

Warlock couldn't contain himself anymore and stepped closer.

" _ It's impossible, but...." _

"Crow...ley?" he slowly susurrated.

"What?" the man sighed.

Warlock was shaking and felt sick as he took another step forward, staring at his side of his face. 

"You're.....  _ No, no, _ ".

Crowley did not respond but continued to look dejectedly towards the fire. 

_ "He is the Raven?! The Raven is the Golden Eyes man?!! " _

Warlock took another step forward. This had to be some sort of bizarre coincidence, something he just hadn't put all the clues together to and it would answer it's self somehow. Somehow...

Warlock leaned closer. 

"Are you real?" he stammered. "Real flesh and blood? An illusion or shapeshifter maybe?  _ He said he was a sorcerer, so maybe it's not so strange. No, this is really strange." _

Crowley's face didn't shift, except for a slow blink as the golden eyes swelled more with tears animated by the firelight. He was laid sideways, his arms still above the covers, clutching the bolt, his head arched backwards, hair tousled and cascading around his face. 

"I am sorrow," Crowley murmured.

Warlock was startled but mildly relieved when the door behind him swung open and The Brother stormed in. He gave Warlock a cross look but his face blanked when he looked Crowley's way.

"Time to leave, again, boy," he said.

"But... but, I can help!" Warlock replied.

"Nay, ye cannot."

"But Aziraphale said I had to! It's my responsibility!"

"You leave this room. Do not leave the grounds of this place, ye hear? And no matter what you may think you hear, dinnot come in 'till I tell ya!" The Brother pushed him out and he heard the lock clack.

Warlock felt lost, and simply slid down at the base of the door and sat, hugging his knees. Thunder boomed.

_ "And I am still hungry." _

~~~

Gabriel worried himself in a literal circle all day. He paced the courtyard, back and forth, staring onward to those who passed by him. One of the other priests had to come out and tell him a storm was coming and the hour was late, had he not noticed? Gabriel just gave his lifeless smile, gradually wandering to his chambers. 

_ "Oh yes, a storm is coming. And the hour is very very late." _

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Brother had mixed all the salves and poultices he needed to, trying to focus on that before the inevitable deed. 

Crowley's breathing was becoming louder and raspier. He looked wilted as The Brother approached his side.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gabriel had retired and tried to sleep, but it wasn't sleep. It was a frenzy of memories in his dreams. All rolling in on this storm. 

He was transfixed by the fireplace, soaking in the heat. 

"The first thing I remember was your hair. Like the fires. You were like flames. I could stare. I could feel your heat. I could delight in your power. But I couldn't touch you. I couldn't hold you. You just... burned me." He was reaching out to the fire until his body reminded him to yank his hand back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Lion roared in fury at the storm.  _ "How dare the thunder mock me. I will find him! We said we'd never part. Crowley, where are you? Just look up at the stars, tell them and I can find you please. Please." _

_ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ _

Warlock was still outside the doors. The rain wasn't hitting him, thanks to a ledge. But he felt soaked emotionally.

And he was still damn hungry.

_ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ _

Gabriel was convulsing in his slumber, rolling back and forth. 

_ "Oh, I can remember your eyes. Like the sun. The first day you came to my city... I am Bishop, I can order the damn sun down to me. But never you! Never you!" _

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Brother began reaching for the feathered end of the bolt. Crowley slowly bared his teeth which appeared sharper than before as he reached out grasped him by the wrist. wrist. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Gabriel heaved and flailed more, sweat soaking his bed robes.

_ "But him? Why did you want him?! " _

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Make it fast," Crowley whispered arcing his chest up slightly and closing his eyes.

The Brother gave a shaking nod and grabbed the bolt with both hands, along with Crowley.

"Ere ye ready?" The Brother asked in a tentative tone.

"What kind of a question is that?," Crowley hissed.

The yank almost sent The Brother backward.

Crowley's eyes went to their widest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Warlock heard an unmistakable pained screech from within, and in the distance, a Lion roaring. He covered his ears.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Gabriel yelped and leaned up in bed, covering his face from the flood of light.

Dagon stood holding the doors open.

"Sorry, Gabe," she apologized. "But ya wanted to know when Hastur arrived. And Hastur has arrived." She stood aside as a figure approached.

He was clad in mix of rags, hides, and other undefinable materials. Like a walking collection of supplies on a man. He took off his swab of a hat that was hard to discern from the mop of his hair.

Gabriel saw those familiar eyes, so stagnant and distant, as Hastur cracked a stained smile. 

"Got some unfinished work for me, eh? " Hastur probed, smirking more. "Is this about the cat?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Warlock was stuffing his face with anything edible Brother Shadwell would give him. " _ Shadwell. Hey, at least the guy has a name." _

They were in a similar adjacent room to Crowley's, laden with odd items that said to Warlock it was a storeroom once.

Shadwell finally emerged after several hours, arms blood-soaked and looking more haggard than before. He assured Warlock that Crowley would live but had to rest now. The rain had been pounding but slowly diminished. After cleaning off, Shadwell came to the realization the youth had been riding and waiting for hours and was probably exhausted and hungry.

So now they were by another fireside, Warlock thoroughly fed and armed with questions. 

Another roar in the distance. Shadwell hung his head and resumed muttering. Perfect place to begin questions. Warlock had poured a wine flagon for Shadwell, and handing it to the grateful man began. 

"So, That Lion I mentioned? That's...."

Shadwell slurped loudly and shook his head. 

"Eh, enough for one night. Time to drown thum memories...."

"Oh come on! I know it's gotta be! It's clear Crowley was the Raven! Is the Lion Aziraphale?"

Shadwell sighed even harder in defeat.

"Ai. It tis." He cleared his throat and wearily looked at Warlock.

"Time for the whole story, eh?"

"Please! I'm dying here!" Warlock sat down beside Shadwell.

Shadwell righted himself and recounted;

"Crowley was the resident Sorcerer of Tadfield years ago..."

"Sorcerer?! " Warlock yelped. "So, he really is? Aren't sorcerers like, devil worshipers who chop people up for ceremonies?!"

"No laddie," Shadwell scolded, looking peeved. 

"Most people claimin' to be one are just fools who know one trick and use it to swindle ye of yar coin. Crowley is a real one. Now stop yer yappin, ya 'ere?" 

"Sorry, go on."

"Crowley didn't go to no Dark occult tay learn his craft, the bastard was born with it. It was said he never knew who his father was, and his mother was accused of being a with or impure demoness. Prolly' not a fact, but he was still so different than the rest of us."

"You mean... looked different?"

"Ai, but also gifted differn'. He wuhnnit no carnival performer. No man pretending to know tricks to swindle. Nay, he had skills like most of us never kin fathom. Of course, maybe it were Dark Arts. So, it made 'im... feared. "

"I can see why! " Warlock agreed, to which Shadwell turned his head and gave it an arguing shake.

"Ah, but that dinnit make him a bad person at all, but few saw that. He wandered far and wide cause none would let him stay and learned more skills, which made the rest of us more fearful. He saw the world from different eyes."

"I can see that, his eyes are really strange" Warlock agreed again.

Shadwell sighed and rubbed his eyes.

"I ment' that in a figurative sense, boy. Get off of how strange his eyes look, would ye?"

"Sorry, they are just weird. Go on. So, he traveled around, no one liked him?"

"People wanted him for his talents, but he wasn't anyone's trained pup. He did take up the mantle of knight, hoping ta' find some form of normalcy and respect. He was even a fine knight, but where he came from didn't want no strange knight who could have been fathered by a devil. He left his home again just as Tadfield decreed a welcome to all knights of service."

"Wait, Tadfield? I thought the Bishop was against letting others in. Isn't he famous for the Pure Order or something?"

Shadwell chuckled and nodding. 

"Very clever, boy. Gabriel was not head Bishop at the time, and times were different. We were mired in ongoing petty battles, all able Knights were welcome. And this was doin' of the beloved Captain of the Guard." Shadwell paused like this was for Warlock to fill in.

"Aziraphale?"

"Of course! The church had no way to object, and Knights from all the lands came forth. All colors and breeds. Azirpahale was loved by his men, The Lion of Tadfield he was called..."

"See? I knew it!"

"Would ye shut up, mah boy..."

"Sorry, it's just obvious why he's a lion. Keep going."

"It was Spring, many years ago. The whole court filled with new men, rallying to the Captain. He cared for them all, and they back. I will never forget the day Crowley rode in. All black and red on that horse, an' lookin' like a man who hated the world and wanted no friends. " Shadwell looked sad , taking another drink. "Poor bastard just wanted to be left alone yet 'ave a place to call house at the same tim'." 

"Aww, but how did he meet Aziraphale, then? Aziraphale probably felt sorry for him and wanted to be a friend. He seems like he'd do that!"

Shadwell chuckled and looked dead serious.

"More sorry than that. Because that white haired son of a dog saw straight to his 'eart and fell in love for him. "

Warlock knotted his brows.

"Wait,  what ?"

Shadwell chuckled again. 

"Aziraphale innit no sorcerer or wizard. He's a perfect man with one particularly uncanny talent; he can see straight to a person's 'eart and knows the good ins' and bad ones. Crowley was black on the outside but gold within. Aziraphale fell for him like a rainshower."

"What?" Warlock snorted. "he's too... nice! They are so different!"

Shadwell sighed. 

"They are more alike thin' ya may think. Hard to believe, I know. The Black Knight was cold at first. As he realized The Cap'n really wanted his 'eart, Crowley fell just as hard for him just as soon."

Warlock laughed. " That's stupid. I don't believe you. "

Shadwell took another drink, looking at the fire with shame. 

"You had to be there, my lad, to see it. It was so strange that most no one suspected. But the silly Lion turned for the cold heart and the Raven never had someone want him for who he was before. They... were perfect for each other. "

"Weird," Warlock said, looking at the flames.

"But odder still was another person wanting to put a cage 'round the Raven." 

Warlock turned and tipped his head at Shawell.

"Who?"

"The Bishop himself, Gabriel." 

"Wait," Warlock slowly gathered, "The Bishop wanted Crowley? What? Why? I thought he hated sorcerers and stuff. He's with the Church, they hate weird people like that. "

Shadwell was still gazing afar, but nodded and continued.

"Ai, he says so. He 'ad wanted Aziraphale for years, but the Cap'n saw he was gold on the' outside, but all burnt black within. Gabriel made life 'ard for all witches, sorcerers and the like. But the motion was passed for equality, and the city loves their Captain who accepted all. And when Crowley rode in...." He chuckled and took another swig, before thoughtfully digressing. "Ya know, laddie, a man often proclaims his hate for somethin' he truly hates 'bout himself but will never say. He wanted Crowley for 'imself. "

"Why? To have a Sorcerer?"

"Ta 'ave 'im. All of 'im." 

Warlock was getting lost here, but pressed on.

"And, so Crowley didn't want that?"

"Not at all. He loathed the man. The Bishop tried to bring him closer, givin' 'im a post closer to the church, actin' all welcomin' and sweet. Even prevented Crowley from going to battle to keep him safe from 'arm. Ech. Ya shoulda seen the days when the Brave Lion had to ride off on his sworn duty to fight and leave his beloved Crowley behind. I thought they both might die from thar' hearts breakin'.

Gabriel thought it t'was a game to chase the Black Bird who refused to be caged. A game he liked too much. He tried all he could to seduce him and then scare 'im . But the black devil 'ad none of tha'. Worst of all, Gabriel had no idear that Azirphale had 'is heart. He just assumed the Captain was doting on a little lost lamb, like he did all 'is troops. That was, until there secret was broken by a low weak man of the cloth." 

Shadwell still had eyes only for the flames, and suddenly tossed his cup into it. 

The Lion roared in the distance and he lurched forward, holding his hands together. 

Warlock thought he might topple, but saw he was just gripped by feelings. Shadwell inhaled hard and stared up again with bloodshot eyes.

"A brother who had kept their secret until thoroughly bribed."

".....You?"

Shadwell just swallowed. 

"And when he found out, he was furious. He couldn't 'ave 'either, and wasn't about let the Guard he quietly loathed have the elusive siren he wanted. So, he cursed them."

"But," Warlock said, "He's the damn church... how did he curse a sorcerer? Couldn't Crowley undo a curse?"

Shadwell gave a respectful nod. 

"Clever laddie. Of course the Bishop shouldn't have been able to do sech a thing. But, he got from me...." Shadwell paused and had to forced himself to resume. "... One of Crowley's books I had been 'elping transcribe. He figured enough ta' bind them in a curse from hell. By day, Crowley is The Raven, only a man by night. By night, the brave Captain is the Lion. "

"Eternally together, but alway apart," Warlock murmured.

"Exactly, as the bastard wanted. The curse is a binding pact though. If it were to fail by rule, Gabriel's life is in the balance."

"So, how do we break it?"

Shadwell sounded thoughtful again.

"There are always rules to curses, they can be broke. But this one Gabriel made impossible. They would have to touch as humans ta' try for a starts, under a full sun or moon. They have to be see as humans together before the Bishop as well."

"But, but, that's impossible! I mean, that's not fair!"

Shadwell sighed. 

"Has to be possible SOMEHOW, 'twood not be part of how to break the curse twer it not. I am still trying to figure that out."

"They should have gone back to Tadfield, and had the Lion break in a try and kill Gabriel to make him undo the curse!"

Shadwell looked grim.

"Any Lion near any town is... well, how many Lions have ye seen runnin' aboot?!"

"None... oh gosh, everyone would....."

"Try an' kill it. A even worse, the Bishop hides in his church. What do ye know about dark devils and sorcerers and churches?"

Warlock was silent.  _ "Uh, nothing...." _

Shadwell grunted. "Eh, alright, I'll give ye a pass since ye innit the church type. The cannit' enter a church unless welcome. Well when Crowley came, he was granted the welcome of the City. And with his Captain and the unwanted attractions of the Bishop, he could enter the church. Now, he cannot. Unless he submitted to the Bishop or had his Captain there to welcome him in."

"What would happen to him?"

"Dunno. But it would destroy him sooner 'er later."

Warlock grew quiet.

"It's.... not fair. They can't change it, and the Bishop has it so they can't get to him or go back to the city and fix it. Gosh. That's just.... so wrong."

Shadwell agreed with his silence.

"Ai, it tis. And now me past transgressions have come to make me pay. They still live to this point, after so many years. But they come closer to a death than ever. But..." Shadwell raised a little.

"I've kept that cursed book that brought forth this blasphemy, and may be figuring a way 'round it."

Warlock looked at the grizzled face, hopefully.

Shadwell gave a grim smile and sighed. 

"Best ta' get some rest. And don't bother Crowley. He will be weak as a kitten and needs the sleep."

Another roar in the distance as the pitter of rain disappeared.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Warlock had been told not to bother Crowley. He couldn't stop himself from going back into the room with him, he did have to check. It was his responsibility, Aziraphale was counting on him. And he was too damn interesting to not see. Surely he had to be at his least dangerous at this point, maybe his only chance to get this close to whatever he was. The door was unlocked much to Warlock's surprise when he pushed it. Gripping the edge of it tight to curtail any noise, he slowly opened it and leaned in. Some of the lamps were out, but the hearth was still bright.

Crowley appeared to be sleeping, though Warlock worried that he looked deathly where he lay partially covered with blankets. There were a few cloth wraps around his neck under the shift he was now wearing, lightly soaked with blood. Those didn't compare to the bloody rags heaped nearby. 

Warlock was quiet (naturally, he was a thief) and slunk as close as he could, staring at his face. Crowley was the complete opposite of Aziraphale. Aziraphale was vivid, round, boyish. Crowley was sharp, angular, almost severe. 

_ "Nothing alike at all. Maybe he scares Aziraphale into liking him or something." _

Warlock was fascinated that he also had a mark on the exposed side of his face at the top of his jawline. Some sort of black symbol, like a letter or figure.

_ "Probably some sort of sorcery symbol for magic! That's wicked!" _

He dared to lean close, trying to see if it was a symbol when Crowley's lips moved.

"It's a snake."

Warlock popped back, thrusting his hands behind himself to clutch for something secure that didn't exist.

"W..what?!" he whispered. 

"A snake," Crowley said incredulously, opening his eyes but not moving. "You obviously wanted to know."

"Oh." Warlock squeaked, trying to sound thankful for getting an answer.

Crowley gave a small smirk, like being a rascal made him more content.

_ "Just like the bird..." _

Warlock felt he needed to make the moment better for Crowley, he could still be dying.

"Aziraphale," he began, which made Crowley frown hard, "wanted you to be alright. He said 'Take this bird to this place! I cannot bear the thought of it dying! Risk all you can to save its life!"

"Yeah, that sounds about right," Crowley murmured not even moving. 

Warlock tried harder.

" 'For, this is not just a bird, but my whole life! If it were to die I would be wandering aimlessly!' "

Crowley closed his eyes and pursed his mouth.

"Yeah, things haven't changed." 

Warlock was getting the sense that Crowley was also the opposite of Aziraphale's caring personality. 

_ "Maybe he has to be this way because people don't trust him. Or maybe all these years he's just grown tired of this curse. I should try again, see if I can't make him happier." _

__ "He also said that he trusted me to bring you here, and knew it was the trust he'd have so we could work together to bring an end to this curse." 

Crowley's face didn't change, but Warlock saw he stopped breathing for an instant. 

"And he continued to say that...  _ oh gosh, what the hell did he say.. _ . something about the darkness of where he was now looking everywhere would be nothing compared to the darkness of being alone in all that dark. Well, alright, he said it some much prettier than that, but you get the idea."

It was then Crowley closed his eyes and smiled to himself just a little.

"I do."

Warlock scooted closer and sat nearby

"He never says it, but he really misses you. As person, I mean. " 

Crowley opened his eyes and exaggeratedly rolled them while gazing at the fire.

"Oh, well, I didn't think he was talking about the Raven."

Crowley suddenly had a thought go through his head and turned his gaze slowly on Warlock.

"Say, do I give you a hard time as a Raven? "

Warlock was blanking out at the stare again, the eyes were still a jolt to see.

" _ It's....so...weird." _

"Uh, well, yeah. You do," he answered, afraid this was a trick question.

Crowley grinned. "Wonderful. I'll try even harder tomorrow." 

_ "After all I did?!" _

He then closed his eyes again and leaned back with the happiest grin he had given yet.

"Sorry, just giving you something to worry about. I should be a little nicer after all you've done." He slipped an arm up behind his head and tried to relax more.

"And since you aren't leaving and neither of us appears to be getting any sleep, we can sit up and talk. Or ," he said with added enthusiasm, "Stare at the fire and say nothing. I vote for the latter since I'm suffering here."

Warlock didn't want to leave, he had so many questions.  _ "Keep trying to cheer him up, I can't lie to Aziraphale that Crowley is so sad." _

"So," Warlock tried, scooting even closer, "You and Aziraphale?"

Crowley blinked with irritation and tightened his mouth.

"Are you.... you his Lady?" 

Crowley was pretending to be absorbed by the flames, but his eyes got huge, and he snapped his gaze back to Warlock, scrunching up his face.

"........Whaaaat?" he spluttered. 

"You know. If he's the Knight, are you his Lady? You know, like in Fairy Tales? That he worries about and wants to save to be with?"

Crowley hadn't dropped the scrunched up expression, but his eyes relaxed. And he slowly rolled his gaze back up to the ceiling, changing his snarl to a crooked grin and almost seemed to be laughing.

"Gods, what are you, ten years old or something?" He chortled.  
Warlock bristled.  
"I'm eleven!"  
Crowley let out a yelp of a laugh, which made Warlock feel angry. He had just wanted to know, why was that so funny?  
"Sorry, sorry, " Crowley finally simmered down. "I needed the laugh."  
"So, " Warlock pressed, crossing his arms. "Are you then? I just wanted to know."

"Well, " he Crowley finally confessed in an earnest manner, "If that's the easiest way for you put it, you could say something like that. I was his anything he would want me to be, and he was the same for me."

Warlock was satisfied and felt much clearer on the whole situation.

"That's good. You get lots of rest, I know he's gonna be a real knight and come to your rescue! With my help."

Crowley painfully pulled his other hand up to his face and covered his eyes in a helpless gesture. 

"Lucky me." He closed his eyes and was suddenly falling into darkness.

~~~~~~~~~

Crowley was just about leaning on the saddle horn, pretending to be bored of the pageantry.

It was Spring and the world was rather soft and blooming. The tree in the courtyard was bejeweled in white flowers, and the soft breath of breeze would drift a few petals askew. Crowley pretended to be transfixed by those and not the commotion in the courtyard filled with Knights. 

Most of the Knights bore the Tadfield standard. But amid the white and grey sea were a few other colors, other random new knights who had recruited. He was the only one in black. 

_ "Hmm, maybe I should have picked another color. I truly stick out. Oh wait, I don't have another color. Right." _

The chisel faced Archbishop was ceaselessly intoning up on the balcony. Something and something about something about them all being welcome and something about unity... _ "I don't care, really. Hopefully there are no deadly battles anytime soon and I can quietly do some service and move on." _

The troops gave a perfunctory cheer when he finished with a beaming grin.

Then the Captain entered the yard and the troops let out an impassioned cheer. The reaction to the Bishop's speech had been formal, but this was heartfelt.

_ "Oh yes, the Captain. Everyone seems to love him. At least he gave me the job I guess." _

The Captain was giving so pep talk. Crowley's ears picked up part of his brief rally to his men. The words he spoke were like a warm breeze among the men. A clear voice that bounced off the stone walls. Exuberant and vivacious. 

Crowley felt more alone than ever.

_ "I could just leave now, no one would care." _

The crowds cheered again and then it was obvious the rally was over. The troops were slowly dispersing, trotting off, chattering as they went.

_ "Oh, thank the gods, and no one wants to talk to me. Great, I can just leave."  _ He still felt eyes on him. It was one of his many innate 'gifts'. He could sometimes know he was being watched or when eyes were staring directly. And being who he was, that happened often, so it was more like a constant buzz in the back of his head. 

_ 'Hmmm, above on the balcony? Maybe I am setting the damn priests on fire with my mere presence..." _

__ He didn't look, he didn't want to raise any suspicions, so he pretended to be staring at the flower petals falling into the fountain as he was still on his horse. So he was rather startled when a voice beside him greeted him.

"Hello there!" 

He snapped his eyes up and saw The Captain. In his bright armour on his white horse. He had an even brighter smile. 

"Uh, hi. I mean, greetings, Captain... Aziraphale, it was?."

"Oh, do just call me Aziraphale. Really. I am so sorry I haven't gotten the chance to saying hello to you personally, Sir Crowley."

Crowley gave a flat smile back.

"Just Crowley,".

"Very well!" he acknowledged with no tone of offense.

"Uh, is there anything I can do for you, Cap... I mean, Aziraphale? I was just headed off to rest after my ride."

"Oh, then do so. I didn't mean to bother you. I just wanted to finally meet you and invite you to the dance."

"Dance?" Crowley said slowly.

"Yes! It's the formal celebration feast being held tonight in honor of the new Order."

"Sounds exciting," Crowley said blankly.

"It shall be. And there will be a dance later for everyone to get to know each other. Have some fun."

"Oh, sounds fun. But I was thinking of sleeping unless I am required. Part of some sacred duty that comes with the armour and all."

"Well, no, you are not. But it is formally considered polite to do."

"Hmmm, well, I might pop in and be polite for a moment or two if I can muster that."

"I do hope you do!" 

_ "What the hell? He's rather clingy for being my new commander. But he does seem genuine, poor little man, I almost hate to hurt his feelings. And I haven't danced in years. I would love to, but... no. " _

"Eh, well, whether or not it happens, I take my leave, my Captain. I mean... uh, Aziraphale. Have a good day and good evening and enjoy your dance. I'm sure it'll be buckets of fun."

Crowley gave a toothless smile that he hoped showed he was done talking and ready to leave. He urged Bentley and began to trot away.

"Oh, and," Aziraphale rushed loudly...

_ "Oh gods, now what? You don't take clues, do you?" _

"I was wondering if you cared to join me at the dance? I mean, personally. I would love to introduce you to others. Well, maybe you don't like dancing. But perhaps a few drinks? To talk and all that. I'd love to get to know you. You seem like a very sensitive soul."

Crowley stopped the horse and turned around slowly to stare at the eager expression behind him. Aziraphale's face was the pure definition of hopeful before he turned away. Now he was staring at the petals in the fountain now, not making eye contact, looking mildly sorry for what he just asked. "Of course, that's not a command, just an invite. Crowley." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Even a friendly bird will react in panic when injured. And it might not bite your nose, but your lip. This is experience speaking.
> 
> Overall with Warlock on being confused with relationships; he's just 11. I wrote this as a world that flat out doesn't have as much discrimination about m/m relationships, or it's not viewed as that odd. The external discrimination is that Crowley is viewed with stigma and prejudice by society by most adults already.  
> And in Warlock's mind, he might only see that one half should be a 'lady,' to be in one. And especially if Aziraphale is a Knight in shining armour, of course Crowley must be his Lady who needs rescuing.  
> Also that he can't even understand Gabriel's desires and abusive control.  
> He is a kid!


	7. Spinning in Circles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel rouses Hastur to action, and Hastur is a little too eager to deal with his past enemies.
> 
> Warlock unearths more truths with Crowley and Shadwell reveals his plan to end the curse.  
> Tadfield soldiers are still in pursuit of the gang.  
> ~  
> Bonus! Another lengthy flashback with Crowley and Aziraphale

Gabriel poured another drink and handed it to Hastur, and winced as he belted it down just as fast as the last. 

"Heh, take your time, friend," he grimaced. "Wouldn't want you to be out of sorts for your task."

Hastur let out a chuckle. That goddam callous chuckle that Gabriel couldn't stand. Well, he privately couldn't stand Hastur either. He was filthy. He was obtuse and demanding. He was sloppy by nature. He wasn't a sorcerer but had slovenly dabbled in the Dark Arts, just enough to be tricky but not enough to be thorough. All that aside, he was still valuable. Especially at getting rid of things. And people. Hastur had the very loose position of a gamekeeper and hunter in Tadfield, but this was vague as his responses. All Gabriel knew is if there were pests in the hills he could sic him on those with no fail. And maybe the occasional person that needed tracking down as well.

"Yeah," Hastur rasped absently, "But then my cup wouldn't be gettin' refilled again, would it?" Gabriel didn't even stop grimacing as he decided to get to the point. "Well, old friend," he announced as he emptied the bottle into the cup Hastur held forth, "You wisely guessed why I called you back." 

"Ah, perfect," Hastur said before sipping loudly. "The Cat givin' you problem?" 

"Yes, " Gabriel admitted, "You could say that."

Hastur let out another empty chuckle. "Two years, was it?"

Gabriel was returning the bottle to the table it had been sitting on near the bedside, breathing heavy.

"Yes," he quivered. "Just over, actually." 

"Eh, thought one of 'em might crack a lil' sooner. Heh, I'll never forget the look on Azir's face. Stupid lil' Angel, finally got scared of something, begging like a child in tears . Aye, did them scars ever heal?" 

Gabriel turned around and began to pace back towards Hastur, pulling back a sleeve to his night robes. Hastur clicked his tongue looking at four large strips of scar tissue running over Gabriel's left arm. Gabriel covered his arm and gave a firm face. "All of us have our own scars to bear, Hastur. Some visible and others not." *

"Eh, spare the lecture, I lost three of my dogs that night chasin' that bastard cat away. And the cat only killed on of 'em." **

Gabriel turned stern not wanting to haggle over this again. "You were compensated fully, and I gave my full apology for that. You knew the risk and that is what those dogs are made for. No counted on the rest of what happened."

Hastur gave a shrug. "Eh, would be better if I could just let the Black bastard have a piece of my mind on what he did. Mebbe cut a finger off each hand to remind 'im. You know? "

"Which will not happen, as you well know," Gabriel threatened with a full aggressive smile. 

Hastur chortled incredulously. "Yeah. I know. Still hung up on 'im and all, are ya? I bet he still hates ya', just guessin.'"

"What ever I may be... 'hung up on' is no matter to you. I am giving you this opportunity; YOU kill the Lion and bring me Crowley. And also, there is a young boy with them, I need him...." Gabriel paused, like he was looking for the perfect word, "...removed. He's a threat to the safety of the city."

Hastur put on a face of false helpfulness. "Right. I kill a kid that Lion and flaming Sorcerer are protectin'. Sounds easy. And I try and kill a Lion that would probably kill me if I touched his sweetheart. Easy? Oh, and then somehow convince the sweetheart to come back here to the man who made his life a jumble. No worries. " 

Gabriel narrowed his eyes.

"Hastur, you sound doubtful ..." he gave an affected airy pause. "I... I, thought you weren't afraid of anything living or dead. Your own words. And especially not scared of some little man playing a Captain and the devil spawn friend of his. Again, your very words." Gabriel pressed his hands together and sighed. "So, I take it you can't do this task? Not capable of it? Or maybe you've gone soft hunting rabbits."

Hastur looked around warily, clearly, the jab was enough to make him vindictive enough to counter. "Eh, well, I ain't alone. The new pack is trained and hungry. As long as I am paid in full at my price. Besides, I always wanted to kill a Lion. And Aziraphale. Heh, imagine that, like killing two birds with one stone. Except, not birds. One's a lion. The other is Aziraphale." He was cackling at his own joke, another thing Gabriel detested about Hastur..

_"The man is just not funny. In the least."_

"Excellent!" Gabriel praised giving Hastur's shoulder the quickest pat he could. "And Crowley alive, you got it?"

"Yeah, sure," Hastur grumbled. If Hastur hated Aziraphale, he abhorred Crowley more.

"I might have to beat him up and tie him to my horse to bring him back."

"Let's.... not" Gabriel said between his teeth, holding his hands up. "Please."

Hastur looked peeved. 

"Not like I'd punch out _all_ his teeth or anythin'. I promise I wouldn't rough up your little bird too much. Besides, he might like it rough. He loves a damn lion after all."

Hastur resumed maniacally cackling at his joke.

Gabriel spun around and went back to the table snatching up a glass and a full wine bottle. He hastily poured a cup and began gulping it down, hoping to drown out the vapid laughter.

_"He's so irritating, God help me."_

_\----------------------------_

The first suggestion of light was showing on the skyline. The Rat was still near the hearth by Crowley as the embers died. He did fall asleep there for part of the night, even though he meant to stay up and watch on the injured man. Now he was watching the unmoving figure, worrying. 

_"When will Aziraphale show up? And is Crowley still bleeding? He hasn't moved much, I hope he isn't dead. And will he change into a Raven? I really don't want to miss that, it's gotta be cool to see."_

To his minor relief, Crowley stirred and partially opened his eyes. 

"Don't you move," Warlock said reaching out and pushing him back on a shoulder when he tried to move. 

Crowley rolled his golden eyes but didn't lash back.

"You don't want to bleed anymore. You might if you move," Warlock added helpfully.

"Thanks for the advice. I _am_ sick of bleeding, now that I think about it."

_"His eyes. They aren't just golden and huge. The centers are slits. That... is that even possible?"_

Warlock shook off this new found weirdness and felt it was a perfect moment to ask more questions. He had come up with so many more overnight.

"Do you and Aziraphale talk to each other as animals? You know? I mean you talk as a bird. But, not like me right now. Like, a couple of words and they are insults most of the time. Does the Lion talk? " Crowley looked as unresponsive as ever, giving a long wait before slowly answering.

"We can't talk in words. Lions cannot talk. He does try." Crowley raised a hand to make a point and got a cynical look. "It's rather charming, to be honest. I gather that as a Raven I speak in partial sentences...."

"You .... don't remember?" Warlock suddenly interrupted. 

"Not everything," Crowley exhaled. "Like... when something makes you remember a forgotten dream and suddenly remember all of it? Some days are harder to recall than others. I.... remember somethings. Some events. But, I do remember things..." Crowley paused, swallowed, "Aziraphale says to me."

"Like?"

Crowley let out an exasperated sigh. " 'Like'? You're there, you can hear him talk. HE's certainly **not** one to not say what he's feeling." 

Warlock thought a moment.

"But what can he say to you as a lion? It's not fair if you can say words and he can't."

Crowley let a little bitter grin come to his face.

"We still talk in other ways. Touch. I am a sorcerer, I can read things by touching others. Looking into the eyes of each other..."

"You can look into each others eyes and hear things?!" Warlock gasped.

"Is that so odd?" Crowley wrinkled up his nose a bit, puzzled that anyone could find it strange. "I know when people are looking at me. If I look directly back, I often can hear things in their heads..."

"Wicked! Can you read my palm or look at my eyes and tell me what I am thinking?"

"Eh, " Crowley responded, looking away. "I'll pass for now, you are pretty obvious. You just are hanging around to see me magically turn into a raven."

Warlock went silent. _"Well, he's not wrong."_

Crowley grinned and finished. "We can still feel each other. Talk in our own ways. That connection remains. Sometimes it's like a shout from far away, just reaching your ears. Other times, it's like a whisper. But it grows more indefinite as time passes. All I feel more and more is growing anguish from my Angel. "

_"Angel. Angel of Tadfield. The Angel Knight. I remember hearing those names."_

Warlock slowly stood up. 

"Your Angel will come for, don't you worry," he said heading out to find Shadwell.

"I'll do my best not to." Crowley breathed.

"Oh, wait!" Warlock gushed turning around quickly.

'Whaaaat now?"

"Is there any messages you want me to give him! I mean, you could tell me and I could tell him!"

Crowley appeared to be caught between dissing Warlock and responding.

"I'll think about it," he mumbled silently before dozing off again.

_\-------------------_

_"I hate crowds like this. I hate everyone happy and expecting me to be happy. I hate being stared at. Yes, you are staring at me, I can feel it, I'll just pretend I don't notice. Same as ever. At least the wine is decent."_

Crowley had caved and decided to go to the gathering. He reckoned it would be inappropriate to be absent on his first day. _"Yeah, have myself fired or discharged immediately. I'll save that for later when I get bored or run out of town."_ He planned on being socially absent the rest of the time for however long he stayed in Tadfield, so the superficial effort was in order for tonight. But he also felt the urge to pin the Captain back down and get a proper answer for his earlier remarks. He had just nodded, thanked him again for the gracious offer, and bid adieu after Aziraphale's words. 

" _'Sensitive soul'? What in all the bloody hells? Treats all his men like special little needy souls, does he? Or maybe he's so pious he is absolutely obsessed with helping my poor lost soul. Not the first one."_

The evening was glowing in Spring twilight through the courtyard. There were children, dressed in light gowns and garb with flower wreaths on their heads, holding hands and skipping in circles outside. Happy, blissful. The Grand Hall doors were propped open, letting the wild outside mingle with festivities within. 

_"Fantastic. No sneaking out closed doors, they are open for me to make my usual escape."_

It was a looser affair than he imagined, with much less pageantry and pomp. There were endless tables with limitless food inside. Boughs, flowers, and ribbons adorned the room. Candles and hearths were glowing. No one seemed forced or committed to convene and listen to any speeches, and musicians played dueling tunes at various points in the room. Crowley hadn't packed much of a wardrobe, yet predictably had on a long black frock that touched the ground. He also wore his fingerless gloves, he wasn't up to the emotional barrage tonight that came from touching people. 

_"Into the corner with you, Crowley,"_ he thought after standing absently for some time observing the crowd.. _"Or behind a tapestry."_ He felt the glancing eyes moving over him, while he kept his own eyes down to his cup. Occasionally one of the revelers would pause to try and engage with the generic chit chat; "Where are you from originally? Who was your outfit/captain before? Are you that magician I heard about earlier that came to our city?."

Crowley just gave simple one-word responses while he was straining to find Aziraphale. He was sure he heard his voice in the crowd and thought he saw him once or twice.

_"Seems like he'd be hard to miss, a center of attention type... "_

"Ah! Hello again, Crowley! So glad you could come!" 

_"Wow, I should have guessed he'd find me first._

Crowley turned around while tipping his goblet to his lips as he faced the Captain. No surprise, Aziraphale was beaming like sunshine, looking appropriately clean and polished.

_"Could your hair get any whiter? And you are.... shorter than I thought you were. Hmmm."_

He still looked commander-waiting in his surcoat that was vivid in the Tadfield standards and even brighter with the impossible to miss golden lion across the front.

_"Really a subtle statement, my brave little fellow."_

_"_ Oh, hello Captain. I mean, _Damn, didn't want to sound surly right out of the box,_ Aziraphale. So happy I drug myself here."

Aziraphale still looked pleased. 

"Wonderful. I wanted to be good on my word likewise," he said, holding out a goblet of wine. Crowley just noticed he was holding one in either hand.

_"Oh, brought two over. Eh, sure then. Guess we are friends now, eh? My glass is empty anyway."_

Crowley just gave a quick flick of a smile as he took the glass, but couldn't muster a thanks. 

"Then," Aziraphale announced raising his glass, "Cheers! To your health!"

_"Oh gods, I knew there was a price for this..."_

Crowley winced and gave his glass a half hearted clink against the Captain's, and they both tipped their respective glasses back in unison. Crowley belted down the whole thing and figured it was time to get the night moving along or Aziraphale would be prattling him on the same spot for hours.

"Say, Captain.... I MEAN.. _. ugh, I'll never get this straight..._ "

"Yes?" Aziraphale responded looking thoughtful. Maybe too thoughtful. 

_"Oh, he baited me earlier and knows what I'm going to ask._ Uh, When we met earlier, you said, uh, I appeared ... to... be..."

"Sensitive," Aziraphale helpfully filled in.

"Yes, " Crowley acknowledged, finally making direct eye contact. 

"What did you... _What the hell? He's not upset with my eyes."_

Crowley had the alien sensation he hadn't felt since he was around the few people he grew up that tolerated him. The Captain wasn't registering any hesitation or uncomfortableness. Everyone else he looked at always gave the immediate pang of shock, repulsion, curiosity, or even a threat. The sensation that Crowley was experiencing with his new Captain was he was more worried about his answer.

Aziraphale blinked and firmly responded. "You give the whole air of threat on the outside but honestly, you clearly want to be left unbothered and don't want to hurt anyone. Probably from being distinctive, if you don't mind the obvious. Your armour is unique and yours only, it's no legion or standard I've ever seen. But you care about it, just like the clothes you wear. You don't have many but they mean something personal to you because you are comfortable to wear them and show a little of who you are. Your horse is perfection and attended for, down to the braided mane. YOU were reported having no page or squire and not wanting a stable hand to touch it. So, you clearly are devoted to its happiness and beauty, down to braiding the mane. And though you are , ehm, somewhat hard to converse with, you don't hide your aesthetic joy at things like trees in bloom or children running by playing. You probably haven't been given a reason to be a decent person because of who you are, and despite that, you remain formal within your bounds. " Aziraphale suddenly looked cautious and started in for another sip but not before quickly finishing, "And you are an actual Sorcerer which takes an incredible amount of self-control and patience and inner strength, born with the gift or not." 

Crowley felt fruitless to respond with a smart come back, and didn't want to debate with the only person who had given him this job. 

"Hmmm, well, that's nice," he feebly conceded, wishing his glass was full again. "Thanks for clearing all that up. Do I owe you something for this critique? "

Aziraphale looked annoyed, which Crowley thought looked amusing.

_"You should see your face, it's rather lovable when you get so flustered! Especially looking up like that!"_

"It's NOT a critique! It was my honest assessment. So sorry if I was wrong or offended you. And as a matter of truth," he paused looking mildly triumphant, "You do owe me for answering you with my total honesty. How about a dance, then?"

" **What?!** _Oh gods, the bastard did it."_

"You heard me." 

Crowley began to reassess the situation as he locked eyes again. _"Alright, he's not a shrinking violet. And he's not THAT drunk either. He... really  wants to dance with me. Oh my gods." _

Crowley let out an exasperated noise, thoroughly ambushed.

"Fine. ONE dance. Then I leave to go and be sensitive around my horse, how is that?"

Aziraphale emptied his glass and set it aside, resumed his winsome smiling and promptly gave a deep bow.

 _"Oh gods, stop."_

The Captain held out an offering hand, striking his pose.

"If you'd please, my good man!"

_"People are already staring. It can't get any worse."_

Crowley sighed and place his gloved one in the Captain's, which Aziraphale immediately leaned down and kissed.

_"I stand corrected."_

Aziraphale righted himself a strode closer, but kept a space between their bodies. Jutting his chin forward as they both swerved their heads to the side, he began to lead Crowley around. Crowley did his best to follow, agonizing less about the ogling crowd and starting to get a little rise that maybe they'd worry their lovable Captain was under the spell of that evil sorcerer. 

Aziraphale looked serene, even as Crowley tried to keep his gaze from his blue eyes. Yet after a few turns and steps, the truth became unbearable;

Aziraphale wasn't much of a dancer. 

Crowley wasn't even trying to resist, fearing that he was pushing his limit with his new Commander's patience. Yet trying to find synch with Aziraphale was akin to trying mount a skittish horse that refused to hold still. Just as he felt like there was a semblance of flow to their movement he was yanked askew. _"Oh this is irritating. Even a kid would try harder. Poor fellow, he's just spinning in circles. Are you going left... right? Backwards now? He's so happy, but this really looks embarrassing. Did he want to dance with me because of no will for this reason? Oh god, man, where are we going now. "_

"Stop, stop, stop," Crowley scolded after a moment, releasing himself, flapping his hands as if to shake off something. Aziraphale stopped, dropped his arms to his sides, looking wounded.

"So sorry, what did I do? If this is too much, you may have your leave. I didn't mean to bother you. Maybe I did overstep my boundaries."

Crowley felt a physical stab of sympathy when he stared back into those remorseful eyes. _"He really really doesn't mean any harm and this means so much to him..."_ Crowley opened his mouth and found he couldn't speak as he dug around for the best excuse he could muster. "Uh, you did nothing, it's just, uh... _fine, I'll show him."_

Crowley started busily peeling off his gloves. "Your, uh, steps, are out of practice. Need some work, that's all. Here," Crowley held out his now bare hand, "Let me lead.". The Captain looked more withdrawn and hesitated. 

"Oh, please, don't be scared, I don't bite despite what it looks like. I'm sensitive, remember?."

Crowley flashed a lanky smile, trying to assure him. _"Please just take my hand you goose..."_

Aziraphale placed his hand back in Crowley's. Crowley felt the inherent jolt he did with all physical contact and quickly assumed Aziraphale was deeply offended or cowed. 

_"Fine, if this will calm you down, you petulant baby."_ Crowley quickly pecked the back of his hand with a kiss, and Aziraphale swiftly looked enraptured. 

_"Oh, see? Happy again?"_

Crowley felt the heartfelt jolt again, _"The hell?! He's sending me mixed feelings. What the hell?"_ He swallowed too audibly and resumed his mock-happy tone. 

"There, see? No bites. Now, " Crowley instructed, taking his other hand, "Do you feel anything? _Hopefully not what I just felt.._."

"I... do," Aziraphale said also swallowing hard.

_"Aww, he's shaking. That's so cute."_

Crowley glanced down out of the corners of his eyes, and Aziraphale appeared to cower a little and not looking up.

"Ducky. C'mon, Brave Captain, I'm not that much bigger. Just follow what I'm telling you. Try and loosen up, you don't have to grab my hand like I'll blow away. That's right. And lean in closer, please."

\-----------------------

Warlock wandered out the door to the world pleasantly matted by the overnight rain. It felt clean, the air was pure, and the faint glow of sun promised a clear day. Shadwell was outside by one of the collapsed turret towers, watching the day begin.

"I forgot to ask," Warlock said coming closer, shrugging on a rough overshirt, "About the cloth Crowley and Aziraphale wear around their wrists. Is that a memento or part of the curse?"

Shadwell let out one of his grunts and bobbed his head. "Ye kin be a very observant lad when ya' want to. It's part of the curse. It's a bind of sorts. Not the whole of the curse, but nayther' should remove them outside the presence of Gabriel. "

"Would they die?" Warlock asked dramatically, struggling with equal drama to find the hole in the shirt to stick his head through and failing miserably.

"No laddie, " Shadwell sighed, approaching and helping pull Warlock's shirt in place. "But, potentially somtin' as bad. If one breaks, the curse holds where it is at tha' moment in time. "

"Oh, so, if it happened now, Crowley might be human and Aziraphale a lion forever?"

"Exactly, mah boy."

Warlock pouted and felt gloomy. Even after all he thought he felt about Aziraphale and Crowley not being the most approachable person, he wanted to help. "What can we do?" he blurted. "You said all curses have rules and CAN be broken. So, why not try? Can't Crowley come up with a magic spell, write it down so we all know, and make it work?"

"Crowley has no access to what he would need, and kin' never 'ave enough to finish it. Magic is complex. BUT, hope is at hand, lad!"

Shadwell had a new glimmer in his eyes.

"What?!" Warlock said with growing excitement. "How?"

"The books I took from 'im! I told ye' , in meh weakness, I gave The Bishop access to information he used to curse them? Well, the boys 'ad no choice but to leave in a 'urry on that horrible day. I felt so sinful and decided to leave in shame, but I grabbed Crowley's books 'afore I did." 

"So, " Warlock guessed with growing enthusiasm, "You found a way to break it!"

Shadwell scrunched his face a little and gave his head a sideways turn that said 'Not exactly.'

"Well, the books to aid in spells and curses were beyond skills to apply. Nay I found it in his book of astronomy."

"Astron...o...my?" 

Shadwell put on a curt smile. 

"Ai, the stars and the moon, all of the sky. All of those things! It seems Crowley had a matter for the skies above us. He left many notes as well. And!" Shadwell dramatically raised a finger.

"His words mention a day that is night!"

Warlock was being pulled between it had to be a perfect answer to it had to be another fairy tale that couldn't happen.

"How?"

Shadwell looked expended. "I din' know! It t'were only field notes. But it shall be approachin' soon!"

"Well, we have to get them to Tadfield, get them to the Church, and make sure Gabriel is there!" Warlock settled on firmly.

Shadwell gave a nod that seemed to say he was renewed as he stared out over the land.

"That's it mah boy! And I shall take this a sign to correct my past sins...... Oh god help us..."

"What? "

"Tadfield dogs!" He gasped, pointing out.

The soldiers of Tadfield were cantering across the slope to the fortress. There were four of them.

"Oh god help us! Quick!" Shadwell grabbed Warlock and started to push him back. "Get Crowley up and try and find a place ta' hide! I'll keep them busy for a few moments and see iffin' I can't get rid of a few!" Warlock dashed back for the room as he heard shouts from below.

"Hullo! Fallen Brother Shadwell! Tadfield demands you give opening now! We search for a wanted thief and a murderous former Captain!"

Warlock heard Shadwell giving a jocular reply and pretending to be fumbling with a draw bridge winch. 

Warlock dashed in to see Crowley was still very much asleep as he had left him. He rushed down and began shaking him with both hands.

"Crowley! Please, wake up!"

"Fuck off," Crowley muttered.

Warlock popped back in a complete stupor. "Hey!" he huffed angrily, then shook Crowley harder.

"Hey, we have to go! The Bishop's men are here and going to kill us!"

"Whaa-aat?" Crowley groaned leaning up.

"The Guards! They are here! Shadwell said we should hide!"

Crowley looked terrified. "Oh bloody hells," he gasped. "Try and help me up." 

Warlock tried, but it was harder than he ever imagined. Crowley wobbled and placed his weight on Warlock's shoulders, gasping and hissing in pain.

"C'mon," Warlock grunted, trying to move forward, hauling the injured man.

The Guards had dismounted as they came across the gate.

"Shadwell," one acknowledged coldly. "Show us around, and no lying. We are looking for traitors."

"Right, right," Shadwell approved, bobbing along as he lead the troops. "This way, lads. Right 'ere 'cross this bridge, straight to the storerooms..."

There was a cry behind him and two of the men suddenly plunged through the collapsing boards downward to their deaths.

Shadwell grinned and finished, "And to yer ends 'cause you walked on the right side of the bridge! Ha!" Shadwell's triumph was curtailed as the next guard pushed past him, knocking him in the brow with his gauntleted hand. Shadwell winced and fell back to the ground, holding his head.

Warlock was frantically pulling Crowley from room to room, but either he met another similar looking room or a passages so collapsed they couldn't pass. Crowley staggered and growled behind him. He grew more upset when he heard shouts coming closer. 

Warlock came to a locked door at the top of some earthen stairs he was sure to lead higher and tried yanking on the handle. If he had time and tools, he could pick it, but the tone of voices indicated they were spotted from below and he felt desperate.

"Move a moment, " Crowley ordered, pulling Warlock back. He placed a hand flat across the door pull, like he was testing its temperature. He closed his eyes, bared his teeth and whispered something. Warlock heard a loud snap and the door came loose. "Whoa! You broke it?" Warlock babbled as he forced the door open.

"It's a method of winding up the internal metal to a point of breaking," Crowley answered. "Unfortunately we can't lock it anymore, so maybe you should barricade the door with your body."

"Do you ever say anything nice?!" Warlock yelled as he pushed a stray barrel against the door. 

"Ask Aziraphale," Crowley snickered. "Would you do that for me?"

"Ughhh," Warlock scoffed, "Let's go! These stairs go up...."

"Wait!" Crowley said suddenly. He abruptly was down on the ground, tracing on the dusty stone floor.

"What are you doing?!" Warlock squawked impatiently. 

Crowley was tracing some sort of pattern on the floor, and there were sparks following where the nail met the stone. Warlock also just noticed his nails were nearly black and had a length that made his already long fingers look spidery. 

Crowley labored up, wincing. "Simple trap. Might slow them some." 

There was a pounding at the door and Warlock grabbed his wrist again. They scurried up a spiral staircase. 

At the top, there was a hatch door in the ceiling, which Warlock labored open just as the soldiers slammed the door open. 

"There!" he heard one shout as the came through the doorway, and just as quick there was a flash and a scream. The first solider fell over as the last on hesitated for a moment.

"Well, stopped one," Crowley muttered looking through the trap door. Warlock slammed the hatch shut and yanked a piece of rope from the binding, trying to tie the door down somehow. 

"It's only old boards and rope for hinges!" He yelled during his work. "They'll cut right through!"

Crowley was looking around from atop the small rampart they now were on. Rather small, and crumbling at the edges. He peered over the edge and grimaced at the distance between the ground and them. And there were no walks or bridges to follow to escape. 

"Yeah, well, maybe if you use your body to hold that door they won't get through so fast."

"Hey! I am tired of this! I am a kid, trying to save your life here!"

"Uh, Warlock," Crowley said almost absently, "I appreciate the bravery, especially at your age. But in a moment they are going to be your problem as I fly away. So, I'm looking for a way that you might be able to climb down. I'm not totally soulless despite what it appears." 

The door buckled as the man began pounding. Warlock found a few pieces of wood beams that had loosened from the crumbling structure. He grabbed one and tried laying across the door, just as a sword jabbed through.

Warlock yelped and tossed his body backward as the blade stabbed precariously close to his face. He lost his balance and began to topple aback more, right into Crowley. 

He heard a yell and he fell to his hands on the ground. He inhaled hard as he realized what he had done, flipped himself over, dashing to the edge. Crowley was holding onto the disintegrating edge, so Warlock frantically knelt and grabbed his sleeve.

"Jeez!!! Sorry!" he panted. "Just.... hold on! I'll get you up. _RIGHT! Oh christ, Aziraphale will kill me."_

Crowley's eyes were huge, and he grimaced from obvious pain from his injury.

"Warlock," he hissed between clenched teeth. "You idiot!"

"Hey! I said I was ... ugh... sorry and it's not my fault they are... ugh.... trying to kill us and you shouldn't have been right by the edge! And..."

"WARLOCK! You idiot, let go of me! The sun... ugghnn.... is coming up."

Warlock looked up from straining and was almost blinded by the first rays. He slowly released his grip from Crowley's sleeve and pulled back.

"Ughh, all this time and this is the first time I can't wait for that cursed sun to rise," Crowley gasped with sarcasm.

Crowley's face had been fearful but suddenly became amused. He gave a shameless smile and leveled his glowing stare at Warlock dauntingly. "Oh, yeah, " he puffed breathlessly, "and you can tell Aziraphale this; he was the worst dancer I ever met the first time we met!"

"WHAT?" Warlock panted, not fully understanding.

The pounding and shouting intensified behind him.

Crowley let go. 

Warlock felt weak and clutched his body as he looked over.

The shift and a few bandages were drifting to the ground like banners let loose in the wind. The Raven spun in the air nearby. cawing loudly. 

Warlock was bewitched. The impossible was finally fully proven true, the Man was gone. The Raven was there. 

_"And I didn't even see him transform! Dammit!!!"_

_"_ Behind you! Behind you!" Crowley cawed.

The remaining soldier broke through the flimsy door and heaved themselves up. He guardedly looked around and saw nothing. No one. There weren't any hiding places, so he cautiously went to the edge and scanned. Nothing. He heard a scuffle and glanced down.

The Boy's face looked straight up into his and he gave a sheepish grin.

Warlock had lower himself over the edge, hoping to climb down, but the outcrops had ended after a few feet. So he settled for trying to hide on the largest ledge he could, hoping to be overlooked.

When the helmeted head poked over the edge he proffered a childish grin.

"Uh, hi! A lovely morning to be out and take in the sunrise!"

The soldier pointed his blade at Warlock.

"Enough, Rat! Where is the man?"

"What man?"

"The Knight or the blighted witch you were with!"

"Oh, the Knight is not here," Warlock answered helpfully.

"And uh, the other.... he flew away."

"What?!"

"You heard me!" Warlock honestly insisted. "He just up and flew away!"

"You lie, boy!" the soldier sneered.

"I did!" Crowley's voice confirmed. 

The solider snapped his head to see a large Raven standing behind him on the ground. It tilted it's head and repeated. "I did."

"See?!" Warlock shouted up. "I am not lying!"

The Soldier looked disguted and turned back to Warlock while raising the blade. 

"So long," Crowley barked as a bolt struck the solider in the chest.

Warlock gulped as the guard fell over the edge and downward. 

Crowley let out a few caws as Warlock looked down to see Aziraphale. He was standing on one of the fallen wall stones, lower the crossbow. Warlock hadn't felt so comforted in days and waved.

Aziraphale smiled and waved back in his familiar manner. "And," he complimented to himself, "I told the truth! That's for listening, oh lord! glad to know you got my back!"

Warlock eventually retraced his escape back down, passed the storage rooms, and jogged out to the opening yard. Aziraphale whirled Bentley in at that moment, formal as ever, Crowley perched on one hand. Shadwell loped forward at that moment as well, looking bruised but otherwise fine.

"Warlock!" Aziraphale cried bringing the horse up and halting. 

"Well done! Are you alright?"

"Yep! Dangerous business, but I had it under control!"

Aziraphale laughed. "As I hoped! Wonderful job!"

He noticed Shadwell then and every ray of light left his face.

Warlock saw his face become the fiercest he had seen this whole time. 

"Shadwell, " he breathed as his only greeting.

"Ai, tis I, good Knight Aziraphale," Shadwell confirmed grimly. 

The taciturnity was deafening for a moment.

Aziraphale turned his eyes away, frowning deeply.

"I'll be brief, and break my promise to never talk to you again. I do thank you for saving his life." He turned and looked at the Raven who was also utterly mute for a change. 

Shadwell gave a feeble nod. "Ai, it's was the least I could do."

Aziraphale let out an uncharacteristically sinister chuckle, like the irony was too much.

"Well," he continued with sarcasm that shocked Warlock, "If you say so. And since you can do no more, I part again with the same intentions to never speak to you again. Farewell."

"But wait, Aziraphale!" Shadwell began frantically. "I can do more to aid ye both! I have found the means ta' the end! "

Aziraphale looked bemused and on the verge of snapping.

"Oh?" he ridiculed.

"Yes! The day approaches!" Shadwell looked glowing as he stood straight as possible. "The day that shall be night, and a night shall be a day! Very soon, if we make haste back to Tadfield, we can forever put an' end to this wanton scourge!"

Crowley made a grumbling noise and took off. Aziraphale looked even more peeved like he didn't want to answer this alone. He inhaled deeply, his eyes watching the Raven circle away.

"You are drunk, as usual. Go back to your beloved drink that aided you before. Leave us in our sorrow, for it's all we have."

"No! Listen!" Shadwell came closer and Aziraphale gave him a threatening look. "Jest' listen! Crowley's books! They point to this 'appenin'! "

"Books I never should have trusted you with! I'm through Shadwell. " Aziraphale pulled up the reigns. "I depart for the city with Crowley, and one way or another we will make our conclusion. "

Warlock felt unwell. "Is... he... saying they want to die? Is he just planning on charging in? One of them will die... both probably. Or be stuck like this forever."

Shadwell gave one last try. "Don't ye see? God is givin' me a last chance to redeem my sins! Forever! To bring you both back as you were!" 

Warlock was afraid Aziraphale might actually kill Shadwell at that moment as the fallen man pleaded. 

"He probably has earned the right to..."

Instead Aziraphale turned, closing his eyes, blinking back tears.

"No. There is no god with you here. Or before. Just a shard of a man. Farewell again and for the last time." 

Shadwell wilted and turned to leave and Aziraphale urged Bentley on.

" _Shadwell may be right, it's worth trying. Aziraphale will go mad and get himself killed. I must do something!"_ Warlock quietly bounded over to Shadwell and whispered. "Wait, please, we have to try. He's going to be an idiot and not listen. Follow us, back to the city. Stay behind us, I'll find you. You and I can do this."

Shadwell drew in his breath, shook off his dejection, and nodded. "That's it, laddie! I'll get the books in the cart an' follow ye'. Don't let them get killed 'afore then!"

Warlock grinned and then skipped towards the black horse and rider.

"Hey, Aziraphale!" he addressed, padding along the slow moving horse before it stopped. Aziraphale gave a small grin. "Oh, yes, Warlcok. I can't thank you enough for your actions." He held his hand up as Crowley landed. "You gave me hope. So," he tried to hide a frown, "You are now free. I can no longer ask anything of you. Thank you again, may our pathes meet under better fortune."

Crowley grumbled something. 

"Oh, yeah! No sweat! " Warlock prattled. "But, you know, about that, I just remembered I left some stuff back in tadfield. You know." Aziraphale stared at him and and looked like he might start crying tears of joy. Crowley let out a caw.

Warlock grinned innocently. 

"I mean, that is where you and Ladycrowe are heading, right?"

"LADYCROWE?" Aziraphale echoed, perplexed. 

"Oh no...." Crowley groaned.

Warlock couldn't hide his satisfaction. 

"Yeah! He's your Ladycrowe! He said so himself!"

Aziraphale gave Crowley an asking look, elevating his brows. 

"Crowley, did you say that to Warlock?"

"Eehhhh.....ahhhhh." Crowley bounded into the air shouting "Lies!"

Aziraphale was laughing, and could barely continue talking. 

"Well then! Since we are headed the same way, we'll leave as soon as you are ready!"

"Ready now!" Warlock grinned. 

Aziraphale offered a hand and boosted Warlock up behind him.

"Are you ready, Ladycrowe?" he shouted as the horse began a speedy canter away.

"Bastard!" Crowley screamed zipping past.

"Ladycrowe," Aziraphale chuckled again. "Well, I hope you kept each other entertained."

"Oh yeah! We talked about lots of stuff! And he has a cool tattoo and can blow open locks! He had a message for you!"

"Really?!' Aziraphale asked, looking back slightly. 

"Yes! He said he wanted you to know you were the worst dancer he ever met the first time you guys met!"

Crowley was now howling from above. Aziraphale was rigid on the horse. 

"I... was... not! " He sputtered. "You said I was just out of practice!"

Crowley flew down on Aziraphale's shoulder.

"I lied. Ha!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * This will be explained in a prequel, but Gabriel obviously got raked by The Lion.  
> ** More in prequel as well, Crowley had a hand in this.
> 
> Again, Hastur isn't a sorcerer but has some dirty tricks. Also more backstory with Hastur in a prequel to explain why he loathes the duo personally. ;)  
> Also to clarify in the flashback, Aziraphale isn't lusting after Crowley at this point. Of course he is attracted but feels extremely determined to make him feel welcome because he knows he's had a hard life. Crowley is touchy because people wanting him before wanted him not as a person but for other means. Also, Azir may have no 'magical' talents but can read people and is too good a person to judge him by his features. Crowley can literally 'feel' out people but would rather not because it's overwhelming.


	8. Dance with the past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Opens with a flashback to when Crowley and Aziraphale confess their true feelings before separating. This will be further explained in a prequel.
> 
> The story resumes with Warlock trying to aid Aziraphale and Crowley, but having no luck convincing them there may be a way to break the curse.  
> Aziraphale encourages Warlock to reach out to the surprisingly shy Crowley and make him happy.  
> Crowley warms to Warlock, only to have their fun shattered by Hastur and his hunting dogs.
> 
> WARNING; Lots of Fluff in this chapter as everyone starts to open up more to each other.

Crowley tried to manage his unyielding posture, still letting the words sink in. 

"I'm to stay?!" He hissed between his teeth.

He glared more fervently at Aziraphale's pale face, flaring his nostrils as he inhaled loudly. His hair hung tousled around his face.

"I'd be even more deeply offended to even think you feel you have to coddle me any further. You will NOT command me to stay here."

Aziraphale didn't change his drooped look. There were even dark circles under his eyes that added to his drabbled appearance. 

"It's not my order," he groused. 

"I don't care what you order! " Crowley hissing leaning face closer. "You-" he jabbed a finger against Aziraphale's breastplate, "- are being selfish and I'm no child, and will not stand here while you risk everything!"

Crowley was growing louder and Aziraphale was anxious someone would hear.

"It's not my order," he tried again, with an exhausted blink.

"Oh yeah! You think I'm some little special baby that you must protect! Well, I'm sick of that treatment! I told you! " 

"Crowley, listen-" Aziraphale sedately urged one more time, " -To what I am saying,  ** please ** .  It's not my order ."

Crowley puffed up taller, flipping his hands upward in a vague manner.

"I don't care what you.... wait.... _not your order_? Wait, what do you mean?" 

Aziraphale's dead expression didn't even flicker.

"Archbishop Gabriel ordered it. You apparently are too valuable to risk in battle. There was mention of some new positions for you and your talents. Near the church, where you shall be welcome with open arms."

Crowley stepped back, his slitted pupils widening, his mouth opening silently.

Aziraphale looked even grimmer. 

"Naturally, under normal circumstances, I  _ would  _ try and order you to stay, knowing fully you'd be unstoppable and come anyway. But this is out of my hands, I can do nothing. Believe me, I tried already."

Crowley gaped for a moment, recoiling at having made an indefensible ass of himself combined with this new news shattering on top of him. The bells thudded on like an iron heartbeat in both their ears.

"I... but... I don't want to..." Crowley whispered helplessly. 

"No choice. You will be given your new position and housing tomorrow after I am gone. My advice is to use it, for now, it's an envious opportunity." Aziraphale gave a tiny shrug at the end, hinting he had nothing more to offer and it made no difference. 

"I am sorry," breathed. "I wish I could be there to guide you, but I cannot."

Crowley felt like the world was spinning away again, leaving him. Again. 

_ "Why?" _ Crowley bellowed inwardly.  _ "Why does it always happen I get a moment I find where I want to be in this cursed Universe, someone has to take it away? Tell me who I am supposed to be?" _

"But..." Crowley began, stabbing at the air for something to say.

"Crowley," Aziraphale said with his voice breaking a little, "There is utterly no more time. I must leave now."

"Don't leave me alone," Crowley suddenly whimpered, as he lunged at Aziraphale, pulling him close. Their armour clanked and made an explicit barrier as if time wouldn't even allow them to get any closer in any manner. 

Aziraphale was crumbling inside. 

_ "Oh god, please, no. No. I can't even handle this and it's all I've wanted from you." _

He did his best to wrap his arms around Crowley's waist as Crowley bent over holding him about his shoulders as intimate as he could.

"Crowley," he soothed, barely able to keep his tone even, "You can do this. I will be back. I'm the brave one, remember"

"You might not, you could be killed."

Aziraphale didn't want the embrace to end but slowly pushed away.

"I promise you, I won't," he offered, trying to sound chipper.

Crowley breathed loudly pulling away, his hand moving from Aziraphale's shoulder up to his face. He was touching it, rubbing along his rounded jawline. Aziraphale's eyes closed and he gave a sharp inhale. Crowley felt Aziraphale's feelings and it gave him no encouragement.  _ "He's so scared, so worried. He's terrified. Let's just jump on our horses and leave this madness. He looks so serene now. Like he's asleep." _

"Crowley," Aziraphale whispered. "I... I am still so hungover I can't even think straight."

They both smirked at that, relishing a break in the tension. 

"I have to go." His body pulled back as his eyes snapped open. "But I promise you, I will return. Now, farewell."

_ "No. Not good enough."  _ Crowley frowned and shook his head violently back and forth. 

He slid his hand up the back of Aziraphale's head, striving to not sob, choking out his words.

"Azira...I....  _ I can't ... even say..." _

Aziraphale sagged again staring into the golden eyes.

"...Angel..? " Crowley offered questioningly, which made Aziraphale give the most poignant look he had seen yet.

Crowley smoothly leaned over, lips parting as he gently cradled his Aziraphale in place. As soon as his lips touched Aziraphale's, he felt frail to his core. Touching hand to hand was overwhelming, but this was like being drowned with emotions.

_ "You even taste like sunshine." _

Aziraphale registered shock for only an instant before he tenderly accepted. He swelled with a single long breath, reaching up to feel Crowley's face in return. 

Crowley sensed the fingertips on his face and it was another wave of emotions. Warm, glowing, radiant.  _ "Just like you are, Angel."  _

They stood, united, unmoving, eyes closed as they kissed. Not going any deeper or further, just holding it as it were, right there and then. The hubbub outside was gone, even the bells clanging disappeared. They pulled apart. 

"I love you, my Angel," Crowley whispered hoarsely pulling back helplessly into the darkness.

Aziraphale's blue eyes were flooded with tears, as he nodded in response, wiping the back of his sleeve under each eye, unable to speak as he marched out.

The bells of Tadfield were the only reply Crowley got. 

\---------------------

The autumn air was growing sharper. The sun was shining bright, but the transition was unmistakable. It added more stimulation for Warlock, though. Like it challenged him to move fast, harder, with more focus. All his life his days tumbled by, with stops and starts, but no reason beyond surviving for himself. Now, he felt necessitated to bringing an end to what had been unquestionably drawn into. Maybe it was destiny. 

Maybe.

But the idea that he was, maybe, a chosen one. A cog in the greater device to end this. That was too appealing. _ "Okay, god! If this a test, just watch the Rat prove himself to ya'!" _

He felt reconnected with Aziraphale now that everything about him had been laid bare. And Crowley too. He was still unable to even see them together.  _ "I can't even see Aziraphale as his Captain... Crowley listens to nobody! He'd be the Captain! Maybe. How can they even like each other? Crowley's so mean and selfish. Aziraphale is too modest. They are nothing alike." _

After riding part of the morning, Warlock volunteered to jog after Bentley. He had ridden enough the day before and wanted to stretch his legs. So he bopped along behind the Captain on the horse and began narrating his adventures. Aziraphale was acting very reserved as they started. Perhaps now that everything was exposed he was embarrassed. Warlock didn't care, he was thrilled with all of this fairy tale adventure happening around him.

They had been traveling for several hours and Warlock hadn't stopped talking. Aziraphale listened and eventually gave into more questions, especially about Crowley, as the morning went on. What was he like? What did ask? Did he talk about anything?

Warlock had to work to come up with anything besides Crowley's stinging way of responding, but eventually found things he knew Aziraphale would like to hear. His hair was really long and red. He acted like he didn't want to talk about them, but did eventually say things about Aziraphale and that made him happy. He was only worried about Aziraphale even when he was shot. He thought that when Aziraphale was a lion he was very cute trying to talk.

"...And then," Warlock panted as he neared the end of the adventures, "He drew this symbol on the floor, and the guard just died when he touched it!"

"Yes, " Aziraphale agreed, "He has an amazing gift for spells."

"Yeah! And we ran upstairs and came to the top! And then he flew away!"

Crowley swooped by, making a grackling noise.

"Hmm, I think he's disagreeing with your account, Warlock. Did anything else happen?"

"Oh, no," Warlock assured. "I mean, it was totally crazy up there and all, both of us fearing for our lives and all that."

"I can imagine!" Aziraphale allowed. 

"Hey, by the way..." Warlock jogged closer to the horse's side as Aziraphale stared straight ahead, "Does he ever say anything nice?"

Aziraphale laughed. "Whatever ever do you mean?"

"I MEAN, does Crowley ever say anything nice, or is he alway that rude?"

"Rude?" Aziraphale teased.

"Yeah, like all he does is say mean stuff. He did say I could ask you this."

"Lies," Crowley chided airly floating by.

Aziraphale exhaled. "Do remember what I said about masks?"

"Uh-huh."

"Well, Crowley uses his biting humor as his. He's never been treated equally. He's truly a kind and sensitive soul, but no one has ever seen that. Instead of hurting other people through force, he made a shield of words. Do you understand that? You are similar in a way."

"Me?! No I'm not! I'm.... just.... funny!"

"Not," Crowley barked.

Aziraphale chuckled.

"Indeed. Hilarious. But it's your defense as well. You haven't had many people in your life, many good opportunities that you haven't literally stolen, or many reasons to be anything to anyone. But, you make joviality from everything around you and are, in essence, a good person. "

Warlock felt uplifted. No one took the time to tell him those things before. 

_ "Maybe Shadwell is right, maybe he does see people as they are."  _

"Hilarious," Crowley groused from Aziraphale's hand.

"All the more reason," Warlock boldly concluded, "I am the one to help you guys and break the curse!"

"Well, I will certainly need your help getting back into Tadfield," Aziraphale granted. 

"Yes," Warlock continued, "And then I'll get you guys in church and we'll show Gabriel exactly how we mean business!"

Aziraphale audibly sighed. "Time for a break, don't you think?"

Bentley stopped and Aziraphale dismounted.

The road stretched pleasantly either way with no end in sight, the dying fields were yielding in gold to autumn all around, and the large tree they paused under shivered in the gentle breeze surrendering more leaves to the wind.

"Hmm, no time for tea," Aziraphale lamented looking around.

"Awww," Crowley groaned hopping along the ground.

Warlock gave an exaggerated shrug. "Oh well, too bad!"

"But I do have water and some tack bread," Aziraphale offered sitting on the rocky edge of the road.

"Yuck!" Crowley barked as Warlock approached to sit nearby.

"Sorry dear, it's all I have."

Crowley began walking off in that exaggerated wide-swinging gait ravens had. He hopped over to a puddle and began to splash his body in it vigorously. He raised the feathers on his head and had his beak opened, thrashing his wings up and down, bobbing violently.

"Ohhhh... yeesss!" he cried.

Aziraphale chuckled, handing Warlock the canteen.

"He always liked being clean."

"YEAH!" Crowley climaxed, flailing more. 

The Raven sprung away from the water, looking quite soaked, flapping and shaking aggressively. It hop-walked over to the duo like a toddler in soaked clothes, and hopped from Aziraphale's knee to his shoulder, spinning to face him.

"Clean!" he announced, pressing his bird head against Aziraphale's face.

"You just bathed in a puddle in the middle of a road, my dear," Aziraphale rebuked. "That does not strike me as the most cleanly place."

"Oi, " Crowley retorted as he flipped his feathers again abruptly, sending out droplets. "You're wet."

Warlock felt a pang of difficulty watching the two interact.  _ "They do every little thing they can to be together and not be sad with the curse." _

_ " _ Well, if Shadwell is right, then it won't be long before..."

"Shadwell is delusional and cannot be trusted, " Aziraphale said firmly as he broke off a piece of tack bread.

_ "He won't budge, but I can't blame him." _

Aziraphale held up the tack to Crowley.

"Yuck," Crowley grumbled.

"Well, what if he IS right," Warlock tried munching loudly. 

Aziraphale waved the bread in front of Crowley, who turned his head away. "Well, if he is," he responded absently, "then... Crowley, please eat it."

"No," Crowley growled.

"Fine, " Aziraphale resigned, popping the piece in his mouth. "But drink something and not puddle water."

He poured some water into his palm and held that up. 

"Ewww!" Crowley criticized. "Cup!"

"Crowley, I am not unpacking a cup for you right now, please."

"He's watching!" Crowley yelped. 

Aziraphale rolled his eyes.

"I assure you Warlock won't tell anyone."

"Bastard," the Raven muttered before bobbing for a few quick drinks and leaping away.

"If he is right?" Warlock pressed.

"What?" Aziraphale asked, looking politely lost as he wiped his hands dry on his shirt, swallowing loudly.

"Oh jeez, don't play that. I may be eleven but I'm not stupid. If he IS right about a day without a night or whatever?"

"Impossible," Aziraphale said. 

"Why?" Warlock pressed.

"It's not possible," Aziraphale answered as if that were obvious.

"But, all curses have rules," Warlock stated matter of factly.

"Yeah," Crowley agreed.

"And, well, there has to be something like that! And he said one of Crowley's books said something about it!"

Aziraphale pulled his mouth sideways. "You'll have to ask him about it then." Crowley was silent but had his head tilted, looking at Warlock. 

_ "He doesn't remember things. I will have to ask him tonight." _

Warlock felt he was reaching some sort of barricade with Aziraphale, and not sure why.

"Well, then," he segued, "What do your plan IF I get you back in the city? "

Aziraphale looked down, resting his arms on his knees. 

"I will face Gabriel myself and force him to undo this all, as I should have," Aziraphale said matter-of-factly.

"Uhh, how?"

Aziraphale gave his head a shake that gave no answers. 

"I shall know when I am there. "

Crowley croaked once.

_ "He doesn't know, he's just stabbing in the dark. God, I can't let that happen." _

"Well, uh, " Warlock ventured, "Don't get yourself killed? I mean, Crowley wouldn't be happy with that."

The Captain looked at the Raven who was hopping on the ground.

"Perhaps a better fate if one of us were to break the endless circle, for the sake of the other," he whispered. 

_ "Oh man, don't talk like that. _ " 

Warlock wished Shadwell were right there to talk to, even if he could be rambling

Aziraphale shook off the moment. 

"Let's nap now? Shall we? We'll travel more and find lodging later, just for tonight. " Aziraphale reclined against the ditch bank. Crowley squawked, hopped up on Aziraphale, and flattened against his chest and neck in a limp heap. 

"You smell like a puddle," Aziraphale murmured, putting a hand on top of the bird.

"Shut up."

Warlock just hugged his knees.  _ "Oh lord, maybe I am not cut out for such a task after all." _

_ _________ _

Hastur traveled with his braying pack for days. Several terrified soldiers had returned to Tadfield after escaping from the wrath of the former Captain, so he knew the general direction to head to find him.

_ "How hard to find a goddam White Lion and the Freak? Someone 'ill see 'em. " _ Hastur was one with his canine mob, galloping along as if buoyed by the barking. 

_ "Why, Gabe, why now? Ya shoulda let us kill The Brave Little Captain before this. Or sooner. Wanted them to suffer, oh yeah, But you've snapped too, just like them. They still have each other and that drive ya' mad, dunnit? Huh. Guess that curse just wasn't good enough. Eh, can't be hard to find, are you Aziraphale? You gotta be dying to let the world know how much you're suffering. Can't wait to see your ugly face, you Snake. And finishing ripping the wings off your Angel while you watch." _

__________

At the end of the day, the trio came to a calm town, where Aziraphale purchased lodging at a stable. Warlock was quietly thrilled, even though the stable and lodging where the same building, it was well boarded up and discreet, and even clean and spcaious. And the air threatened rain later, so it was a welcome rest. Aziraphale made sure Warlock was secure before saying he would depart for the night. Warlock was silently disappointed, he was desperate to see Aziraphale turn into a lion but figured it was rude to ask. Yet he was still wordlessly terrified of actually being near a lion, the more he thought of it. Aziraphale told him to please look after Crowley and handed him some coins. 

"For what?" Warlock asked.

"Well, " Aziraphale ventured. "Go to the tavern, buy him some wine."

"Wine?" Warlock replied, screwing his face up. "I don't know if I like wine!"

"Not for you," Aziraphale chided in an obvious tone.

"Me!" Crowley hooted from across the room.

"Yes, he's probably like that very much. The darkest red is best. And then," Aziraphale inhaled and looked sideways, "Just... talk to him. He'll warm to you. Despite his bluster, he's rather shy getting to know people because he hid from them for so long. Ask him things. You probably shouldn't be seen by too many people outside, but perhaps... Oh, walk him about. Ask him for a dance. Anything, just let him know not to worry too much." He gave an eager smile that seemed to say  _ "Please, just talk to him for me. You are my only connection." _

"Do... you want me to tell me anything to tell him?" Warlock offered.

Aziraphale looked stirred. 

"Uhhm, hmm. " He flicked his mouth to the side in a flustered manner and over furrowed his brows. "Tell him... My very soul," he raised his eyebrows, still flustered. "I can't even think of anything I want to say. " He looked bemused by his own helpless response.

"That you miss him?" Warlock offered.

"Hmmm, let's try something different, shall we? Here," he leaned down and looked at Warlock in the eyes. 

" Tell him, 'I have forgotten the names of all the stars, and they have as well and shall until you return.' "

_ "Wow, couldn't have picked anything harder?" _

Warlock shrugged with exaggerated conviction.

"Sure!"

Aziraphale didn't even affect his usual cheeriness as he began to leave.

Warlock sensed, even more, at the grief he welled up behind his armour. The Captain went over to Crowley, perched on one of the stall beams, gently petted the Raven around his closed eyes, and kissed him on the top of his head.

"Be safe. Find me if you can."

"Hmmmm," Crowley just sighed.

After Aziraphale shut the door behind him, Warlock proceeded to do the usual menial chores. He minded less because the housing was pleasant for a change and he felt secure. Crowley didn't even harangue him while he worked. The sky was dimming outside and Warlock figured it was time to go out.

"I'll be back, Crowley," he announced and he donned his travel cloak.

Crowley twisted his head and stared. Warlock looked back and felt all his animosity fading. "You are really that person in there, aren't you?" he pondered. 

The Raven blinked.

"What a nightmare. Day mare, maybe? For you at least. It's a night mare for Aziraphale, I guess. Well, anyway, I'll be back shortly. Don't go anywhere!"

"Careful," Crowley offered as Warlock closed the door behind himself.

_________

Warlock was surprised how easy it was to purchase wine, expecting some sort of interrogation. As long as he had coin and was taking it straight to that sick father of his, he was fine. Leaving out, he was overwhelmed by other edibles he saw being offered on counters around the inn.  _ "I mean, I could steal some, but, that doesn't seem right. And I sure we're all sick of tack bread." _

Since he was feeling very responsible for this whole adventure, he'd decided he'd get something besides tack bread. He used his last stolen coins on purchasing some fresh bread, cheese, and apples. Loaded with items and feeling very grown-up, he headed back out and was surprised how dark it was. He rushed back to the stable, sensing the wind rise again with a threat of rain, but morefeeling secure when he saw a light come from one of the small windows.

"I'm back!" he announced as he got to the door and struggled to open it with his arms full. 

He stumbled in, dumped his traveling cape he had been using as a makeshift basket for everything, and locked the door behind himself.

He turned and looked for Crowley, panicking when he saw no one. There were several inviting lamps around the room, giving the whole place a cozy aura. 

Then he spotted him, behind Bentley. He slowly stepped into view, head almost turned sideways as if he was seizing up Warlock with curiosity. Warlock was troubled by how an animal like his movement was, and the eyes didn't change that sensation.

_ "He's acting so... shy? Why? I hope he remembers me." _

Crowley blinked, looked towards the ground, and backed behind Bentley a little.

"Of course I remember you, Warlock," he quietly said, turning his attention to the horse. "Hard to forget."

_ "Oh, yeah, he can hear my thoughts or something." _

Crowley was fussing with Bentley's mane, and Warlock noticed it was a row of braided hair. Crowley was braiding the last of it that was still untouched.

"What... why are you doing that?" Warlock asked, trying to sound friendly.

"Because," Crowley answered "He's my horse, he needs special treatment to look his best. And I am sure it gives Aziraphale something to do."

"Your horse?"

"Yes, my horse. Aren't you?" Crowley was scratching around the eyes of the huge animal, which turned and gave a loving sigh.

"We've been through so much, haven't we?" The horse made a noise that seemed to agree. Warlock knew most war horses were enormous, no slender racing animals. But the more he thought of it, Bentley was suited for a person of Crowley's size instead of Aziraphale.

Crowley finished his handiwork and glanced back at Warlock, still looking timorous. 

He made an effort to come out in the room more, into the light, keeping his gaze down. He raised his arms without any explanation behind his head and began to braid some of his red hair. The manner he turned his head against the veil of his cascading red hair outlined his salient characteristics. Warlock had assumed everything Crowley wore was black but realized that was because he only saw him at night. The frock he wore was a mix of blacks and dark reds. It still looked like a dress to him. Or somewhat religious, like a priest's robes. All this was giving him a bizarrely saintly appearance in Warlock's eyes.  _ "Tall, black robes, very strict looking, Kinda like a priest." _

"I got us, uh, some stuff!" Warlock announced, trying to busy himself. He knelt by the bundle and began untying it, trying his best to watch Crowley from the edge of his vision. He pulled out two apples and the bottle. He slowly approached Crowley and held out an apple as the man finished tying off one braid. 

"I thought.... maybe you were hungry," he offered holding out and apple.

Crowley slowly raised a hand, still looking timid. Then faster than Warlock could blink, he snatched it away, giving a wolfish grin. 

_ "Does he like terrorizing me? He does a good job." _

Secretly Crowley liked children. Most of them. Many he encountered were not judgemental or prejudiced yet. They might be scared, but many were curious and even eager to comprehend him. They saw no threat in Crowley as provincial adults did. No chains of religion to tell them a person was bad, no understanding what marked people as different and why differences separated us. Even someone like Warlock, despite his fairy tale notions and initial stereotypes he knew he held, he was still pulled by wonder.

"Well, then," he tantalized, "Mr. Warlock, I thank you." He snapped a toothy bite noisily from the apple.

Warlock flinched. " _ Yep. Doing a really good job." _

With a chuckle, Crowley seated crossed-legged on the floor where he had been standing. He patted nearby. "Well, sit down. Tell me about your day." Warlock shuffled closer, and then remembered. 

"Oh, yeah! Aziraphale had me get this!" He sat down eagerly and held up the bottle. Crowley was finishing his apple, paused in his chewing, and chucked the core away over his shoulder.

"Bentley, that core is for you, boy. Well, then, I suppose we are best friends now, Warlock," he kidded. 

He snatched the bottle and began to pull at the cork with his teeth. 

Warlock tried not to stare while he bit into his apple.

There was a pop and Crowley spat the cork across the room, giving the newly exposed bottle top a sniff. He then made a giddy sound. 

"Ah, we have no glasses! Well, who cares! To your health!" He took a hearty swig from the bottle. Warlock giggled. 

"You complained about not having a cup earlier too! "

"Hhh, that so?" Crowley hummed letting the taste roll around his mouth. "Are we drinking wine on the road now?"

"No, just water! Aziraphale didn't want you drinking out of a puddle."

"Oh, yes, infamous puddle drinker, that's me," Crowley purred, taking another swing. He abruptly stopped and turned to face Warlock. "Uhm, so I didn't drink out of said nasty puddle, did I?"

"Oh no, Aziraphale wouldn't let you! Especially after you took a bath in it!" Warlock assured him while chewing.

"Oh, of course," Crowley said still sounding worried."But, no cup?"

"Oh, no." Warlock assured. "They were packed up so Aziraphale poured some in his hand and made you drink it. You seemed angry I was watching."

Crowley turned his head the opposite way and took another swig.

"Hmmm, well, that's adorable," he winced. 

He suddenly thrust the bottle at Warlock. Warlock had finished his apple and looked bewildered. "Oh. Sure!" He lifted the weighty bottle and boldly ventured a swig. He handed it back, knowing Crowley was watching, as he began straining to swallow. The pang of sourness filled his throat and nostrils, and he swore his tongue was changing its texture.

_ "I'll drink beer or that horrible tea... this is the WORST!" _

Warlock let out a gagging cough once he got that down, and Crowley smirked, slapping his back. "There. You are a man now, congratulations! I drink to your new-found maturity." 

He swigged again. "So, Warlock, my good friend, answer me this," Crowley asked, sounding slightly more serious. "We're heading back to Tadfield, aren't we?"

"Yep, sure are. Aziraphale says he's gonna make it all end one way or another."

Crowley slumped forward a bit. 

"I'm sure it will then," he muttered. "He can be so stubborn sometimes."

"Yeah," Warlock agreed.

Crowley was tracing his thumb around the lip of the bottle, still staring at the ground in front of himself. 

"He'll get killed. He's such an idiot at times. Thinks with his heart more than his head." He took another very slow pull from the bottle.

"He always said I ran from things. I should have just faced them, he said. We should have just run when we could have. He thought by facing the problem for me, because I couldn't, would end it. Huh."

"What if," Warlock edged in, "I knew a way to end it?"

Crowley didn't even look up. "Hmmm, well, I'd probably worship you like a god for the rest of your days for a start."

"Well, maybe Shadwell mentioned...."

Crowley groaned and rocked his head back. "Uggh, Shadwell. No. He can't be trusted."

"But, he said he found a day coming up that will be both a night and a day!"

Crowley looked bemused. "Yeah, he gets through his days fast enough I'm sure he can't tell the difference."

"But-" Warlock rushed, "He said it was in your book!"

Crowley was sipping and noisily swallowed. 

"MY book?" he asked, exasperated.

"Yeah! One you wrote about stars and moons and stuff!"

Crowley was plumbing his mind for a moment. "My... astronomy notes?" he breathlessly ventured, still sounding confused.

"I think that's what he said!" Warlock settled.

Crowley looked thoughtful but disoriented. "They were just... notes and observations. From watching. And other books I found in other places. It ... they.. they were just, notes. No predictions. It was all... I mean, there were ideas of things that could happen. But..." He gave a vague wave of his hand, "Potential alignments and possibilities. I don't recall saying anything about a night and a day."

Warlock felt frustrated. Maybe Crowley forgot. Or maybe Shadwell read it wrong.  _ "I gotta get to Shadwell at some point...." _

"Well, you wrote it down, right? Can't you remember any of it?"

Warlock hadn't seen Crowley's eyes as wide as they were as he gave Warlock a cynical look.

"Well, why do you think I wrote them down them? I can't remember  ** everything ** ."

Warlock felt he shouldn't weigh on Crowley's mind more for now.

"Well, speaking of the sky, Aziraphale had a message for you!"

"I'll bet he did," Crowley mused looking upward with a mock-dainty expression. "Do tell me." 

"It was something like, uh, the stars have no names and Aziraphale forgot them anyways and need you to come back and help him rename them."

"Beautiful, I can just hear that in his voice." Crowley tipped the bottle again.

"And uh, he said we should talk about stuff!" 

"Hmmm, so what are we doing now, then? Oh, drinking." Crowley took another gulp.

"And he said maybe go out, but don't get seen."

"Yeah, it truly ruins my whole ascetic lifestyle if some bystander spots me." Crowley was dispiriting as the bottle emptied, but seemed to make an effort for Warlock and stood up, placing the bottle aside. "But, since you appear to be in charge of me, what do you think I should do? And don't say magic tricks or I will turn you into something."

Warlock almost wanted to see if this was true.

"Well, uh, he said you like dancing," Warlock experimentally tried. 

Crowley closed his eyes and put a hand over them, smirking to himself. 

"What's so funny? Is this a joke?" Warlock asked getting up.

"More than you'll ever know," Crowley snickered with an evilly spreading grin. 

_ "Are his teeth really pointed or am I seeing things..?" _

"Promise to keep a secret?" Crowley asked naughtily. 

Warlock nodded, feeling excited to be let in on something.

"He's a horrible dancer."

"Really?" Warlock asked with a smirk.

"The worst I even met!" Crowley confirmed with a flat wave of his hand. 

Warlock laughed and Crowley began laughing with him.

"But, he loves to do it! No one wants to dance with him! So he asked me to, and I always have to show him! Still, Bentley leads better than he does!" 

"Really?!" Warlock chortled. "I bet I could dance better!"

"Well, then, Master Warlock," Crowley announced cooly, narrowing his eyes, "Try me!"

Crowley stepped back with a sweeping motion and held out one of his long-fingered hands. 

Warlock blanked.

"Uhh, well, I....." Warlock gave a swirl of his palm as if it were a silly notion after all.

"Oh, I see, not a man of your word?" Crowley taunted, tossing his hair haughtily.

Warlock feigned indifference and slapped his hand into Crowley's.

"Oh wait," Crowley said gracefully bowing, unfurling his free arm sidelong, "It's not proper until..." He dramatically kissed the back of Warlock's hand.

"Ack! Gross!" Warlock yelped, trying to pull free, but Crowley was clamped tight.

"Hey, it's me or Aziraphale," Crowley offered helpfully, smiling.

"Yeah, I guess that would be worse," Warlock concluded trying to shake the icky sensation.

"Well, I confess, that was my reaction the first time he kissed me too..."

"Uuuggh! Too much information!" Warlock squealed, still trying to pull free. 

"Sorry Warlock," Crowley apologized reaching out and snatching his other hand in a vice grip, "But you are in too deep. Now, follow my lead, please."

"Maybe I don't wanna dance anymore..."

"I don't think we have a choice Warlock. This is for Aziraphale, and Aziraphale isn't very pleasant when he's cross. Cute, but intolerable to be around. "

"Ugh, please stop," Warlock groaned. "I'll tell him you said that!"

"Oh, please do. I'd like that very much. Now, lean in closer."

Warlock felt himself yanked closer and apprehensively gazed up. 

Crowley seemed taller and saintlier in the dim-lit room. His grip was solid and Warlock swore his touch felt much cooler than any he had felt before. Yet Warlock was slowly getting the creeping sensation he wasn't sinister. He had an impulse as he stared at the golden eyes of feeling that, behind the imposing form, personality, and scary peculiarities; he was sad like Aziraphale. Just wanting his world back where someone else liked him and he didn't have to live hiding behind that mask.

Crowley cleared his throat and looked attentive.

"And, likewise, I'm going to tell you the steps to take. Ready? "

Crowley began each step and Warlock carefully tried to follow, feeling himself loosen up. It was easier than he thought. He sheepishly found himself falling into the movements and picked up the pace. He started smirking and Crowley looked charmed. 

Crowley even spun him around fast a few times and he was thrilled. "Not bad for your first time," Crowley complimented. 

_ "Oh course he knows I've never really danced." _

He spun Warlock out again, holding on with only one hand, and did a long graceful bow that signaled the dance was over. 

"Okay! Now what?" Warlock asked, still high off of dancing.

"Let's go find Aziraphale!" Crowley responded brightly, grabbing up his black hood and starting to put it on.

Warlock froze.

"Uh, why don't you go find him and I stay here? I'm tired from all that dancing."

"Oh, now, please," Crowley sussed, "You aren't scared of him, are you? He'd love to see you. I won't let him bite you. Much."

Warlock pulled his cloak from the pile of items he brought.

"Okay, fine. But I don't want to get too close."

"Ha," Crowley cacked as he snapped his fingers. One of the lamps went out. He snapped again and another went out.

"WoW! Could you teach me that?!" Warlock gaped.

"Hmmm, maybe," Crowley said snapped out another lamp.

"Forgive the obvious, but you aren't born with the talent. It would be so much learning and work."

"Can't I just.... I dunno, sell my soul and get power?" Warlock offered.

"Dear gods, don't do that," Crowley chastised. "Very much not worth it, there's always some little catch that will eat you alive one day too."

"Awww, but I wanna be a Sorcerer now!" Warlock moaned.

Crowley blinked and gave an exaggerated sigh. "Well, listen more and talk less and maybe I could teach you. Now, do as I say."

The room was dark as Crowley went to the door and slowly opened it. Warlock approached but Crowley held up a hand as he stared out.

"Hmmm, odd," Crowley warned in a whisper, "Something is... off. Not good."

Warlock felt uneasy. 

Crowley gestured as he stepped outside the door. 

"Stick close," he hissed, putting a hand on Warlock's shoulder.

There were only a few single lights around at posts or peeping out of windows. The town was mostly quiet. The wind was becoming damp and gusty. Warlock saw nothing but darkness, and Crowley moved cautiously.

Warlock glanced up to see his face outlined by his black hood with a bloody-red lining, his pupils so wide they seemed to envelop the whole eye. He viciously bared his teeth, coming to a halt. "Hear that?" he gnarred.

Warlock strained, then he heard it.  _ Pounding? Popping? No, shouting... no... animal noises Braying and yipping. _

"A ... pack of wolves?" he wheezed.

"Worse," Crowley growled.

"Oh much worse," a voiced rasped nearby. Warlock and Crowley both jumped and spun to see a bestial looking man on a shaggy horse. Warlock felt Crowley clutch his shoulder and stagger as hard as the night before. 

"A whole pack of lovely trained huntin' hounds. Hounds of Hell, in your case. CROWLEY." The man kicked the horse to come closer and began laughing.

Warlock stared at Crowley for an answer. Crowley's mouth was a wall of bared teeth, and he was sure this time his front incisor teeth were fangs at this point. His eyes were at their widest aperture. He heaved hard with a guttural growl that Warlock thought was a swear but realized it was a name.

** "HASTUR!!!" **

Hastur leered as he came closer. "Aww, happy to see me, little bird?"

"You...." Crowley looked violent, and already had his long pale knife exposed defensively.

"Aww, come on now, that's no way to treat an old friend."

"Come down and shake my hand,  _ frrrriend _ ," Crowley dared.

"Ehhh," Hastur shook off as he stopped the horse in front of them.

"Can't. Too busy. On the trail and all." 

Warlock felt even iller at ease when the man stared his way. His eyes seemed bottomless and his pallor looked decaying.

He grinned when he saw the boy pull behind Crowley.

"Ah, the Rat everyone is makin' such a fuss about?"

"Leave him alone, Hastur," Crowley threatened matter of factly.

"Ehh, killin' a kid ain't bad in my books, if it needs doin'," Hastur tossed off. "Gabe ain't too happy with 'im. But who cares if a kid lives or dies? Right now the death of most importance is that damned cat."

Crowley seemed leaned his head forward, still all teeth and flaming eyes.

"You. Won't. Touch. Him."

Hastur resumed his deathly cackle, and the sound of the pack intensified through the forest nearby.

"Ha, you think you have a choice 'ere? Gabriel wants the boy and The Lion dead and you to skip back to the church like a good little girl."

"Which you know will never happen," Crowley sneered.

Hastur gave a thoughtful tilt to his head. 

"Yeah, really, I do. You ain't gonna do any of that. Even I know that. So why bother talkin'? The kid means nothing, run back to the hole you came from for all I care. The Lion will be as good as dead with my dogs. All Gabe really wants in the end in your ugly face. So, why not make this easy? " Crowley wasn't budging and Warlock felt anger rising in his gut.

Crowley just glared harder.

"Eh, well, then, I suppose I'll just have to collect you after I kill your boyfriend..."

Hastur shut up when Crowley flipped his knife up to his own neck.

Warlock let his mouth fall open and backed up.

_ "What the hell?! No way! Don't do it man! I can't deal with Aziraphale if you do that!" _

"That you won't do, one way or another, I will be sure of."

"Really, Crowley?" Hastur dared. "Your poor kitty would be lonely."

"I was lonely my whole life, and you helped take my happiness away. Now, I'd rather give my whole existence so he could live."

Crowley looked absolutely determined. 

He moved the blade upward a little, and Warlock yelped at the blood droplet he saw.

Hastur looked stumped, but animation returned to his countenance when the braying of hounds sounded again with newfound urgency.

"Well, Crowley, I am sure you would. I'd still take your corpse back if Gabriel wanted to play around with that. But it sounds like the dogs found the trail." He chuckled and dramatically reached in his pocket. "Good thing Gabe gave me something you forgot to make my job easier." He pulled forth something in his grimy hand. "Left it in that cloak of yours from that fateful day. It was in the pocket. I suppose it was a keepsake." He mirthfully held up a lock of cloudy white hair wrapped in a black ribbon. * Crowley's expression went dire and he dropped the knife from his neck in dispair. 

Hastur leered triumphantly, rubbing the locket between his fingers before removing the string with mock daintiness.

"Eh, well, the hounds probably sniffed out all the lovely smells it had left. But no worries, there will be lots of white hair everywhere after they finish ripping him to shreds."

The wind was starting to whip with a few raindrops and a distant thunder boom punctuated the moment.

Crowley screwed up his face in horror. Warlock turned and ran back for the stable.

"So," Hastur concluded, raising the hair to the wind and holding it, "You have no say as to all of this anymore. Just like poor little Aaaa-zira-phaaale did on that day. Bet you miss that poor fella. Did you know he begged like a child in front of Gabriel when cursed?" He grinned harder at the crestfallen sorcerer. "Like a little baby. All blubbering tears. He was ready to die for you then and there. He actually offered to. Kept saying your name. All mad begging till he made only animal noises. "

"Hastur," Crowley declared like he couldn't even fathom what was occurring. "I will kill you. Slowly and painfully."

Hastur let the hair go and it distributed on the wind. Crowley held back a sob.

"Not likely," Hastur said.

Warlock suddenly ran up with the longsword.

"Begon! " He barked, pointing it at Hastur. "Or I will kill you myself!"

Hastur rolled back his head in laughter.

"Give me that," Crowley growled, snatching the blade from Warlock's grip and spinning around to leave.

"Yeah, I have to run myself," Hastur teased, spurring his horse away.

"Nice try, lad, Mebbe I'll just sick the dogs on you afterward, a finishing dessert! " Warlock was being pelted by the first big raindrops, watching the skanky man and equally skanky horse disappear into the darkness of the woods. The place still echoed with his laughter but was swept over with the din of hounds braying.

Warlock groaned and began to shuffle to the barn.

"Now what, Crowley? Crowley?"

The next thing he saw was the front of a giant horse barreling straight towards him. He dodged to the side, only to re-experience his previous occurrence of a hand grabbing him roughly by the armpit as he was hoisted over the shoulders of the horse. It Crowley this time and there was blessedly no saddlehorn.

Crowley had just tossed a bridle on Bentley and nothing more, riding him bareback.

"Warlock," Crowley shouted, "I have an idea and I will need your help. Obviously."

"Great! I knew you would!" Warlock shouted back as the rain grew heavier, struggling to hold onto the horse. "Who was that?"

"Hastur," Crowley snarled. "Old enemy. He's not a Sorcerer but knows some of the craft. That's why I couldn't tell he was watching us. My casual methods don't work on him, I can't read his thoughts.  _ AND _ , since Gabriel sent him he's blessed by the goddam church. I'm not. Dirty tricks and he always plays dirty. Really dirty."

"But, what about Aziraphale? Will he be okay? Lions are bigger than dogs, he can take them! Right?!" 

They bobbed along a dark woodland path as the rain continued to patter.

"They are cursed hunting hounds, they will stop him in his tracks and try to tear him to pieces. It won't matter, Hastur will come to them when he's ambushed and finish him."

"We won't let that happen!" Warlock yelled trying to sound reassuring. 

"And let's see if you are good on an earlier proposition of yours, Warlock."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger!  
> -  
> Now, in no way am I even insinuating that there's anything more than a friend or even parental relationship between Warlock and Crowley. I know in 'Ladyhawke" Phillipe has a young crush on Isabeau, and Navarre is worried that maybe they are in love. Warlock is a kid, period. (If you need underage fantasy, go somewhere else.) Crowley, of course, grows to like Warlock, and Warlock is fascinated with Crowley.  
> -  
> Also, underage drinking might be icky for some. But the context is; It's the Middle Ages, basic wines and beers were drunk by all ages (even little children) because it was safer than the water, it was a daily staple. And Crowley is just paling around like an adult letting their kid have a sip of their alcoholic drink.  
> \--  
> Corvids are clean birds. Like all birds, they do bath in water. As large as they are, it's a messy affair there's no way of describing it any better than they appear joyous doing it. But a real soaking bath is something they only do when they feel safe. Even shaking off the excess water as fast as they can, they can be weighted and labor to take off or fly for a moment. So, often they'll bath around other birds, or as with my experience with my crow, when their fellow humans are around to watch out for danger.  
> * Will be explained in the prequel.


	9. They who desire control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley and Warlock plot to bring Hastur down.  
> Crowley continues to reveal more of his nature to Warlock and how much he loves Aziraphale, even in his cursed form.  
> Flashback to Gabriel and Crowley discovering his real desires.  
> TRIGGER WARNING- I didn't put up the Non-Con warning, but the flashback is basically workplace sexual harassment.

Brother Shadwell urged the mule along, slapping the reins.

"C'mon thar, Dick! Gonna be a storm tonight! Gotta make time."

After Warlock's encouragement, he gathered everything he deemed needed and loaded it the small wagon. The stack of Crowley's books first, all loaded in trunks. "Figure they may still be of some use. And the man may want thum returned, should fortune smile upon us all." Then he loaded some supplies for the journey and some rations for the mule, and other things he thought handy. He finally loaded up some other particular boxes he hadn't touched since the fateful day. "May the Raven have his feathers agin' , " he muttered, loading the, in the cart.

Shadwell knew the path back to Tadfield all too well and journied like revisiting an old confession. He kept heart that he could spot the tracks of a large horse, occasionally sprinkled with the tracks of smaller younger feet following alongside.

That night threatened a rain that would bring the end of Fall and usher in Winter. He gave Dick his grain bag and tried to cover him with his oiled blanket for comfort. Shadwell sought refuge under the wagon as the rain began to pound. As the night darkened, he was woken by Dick starting to bray and pull at his tethers. He was about to shout an obscenity at the infernal beast when he heard it; hounds. Baying, screaming, yapping. 

"God save us all. Those are the Hounds of Hastur. They will run the Knight down. The chess game is already movin' faster, and the Bishop has made his play."

_________________________________

The rain slashed down steadily, and another lightning streak illuminated the sea of trees before dissolving back into blackness. Thunder answered. Hastur slid off his horse and tied it off to a tree. He unstrapped his crossbow from the packing on the saddle and loaded a bolt.

"Got your attention now, Crowley. May take all night, but you will come. You won't be easy but as long as you are alive when I get you back, that's all that matters to ol' Gabe. No idea what that finely frocked idiot sees in you. But ay, I don't care, as long as I get paid. And kill that arrogant Aziraphale."

Hastur and Crowley were sworn enemies to death. Crowley was everything Hastur dreamed of being but never had the patience to be. But Hastur had a particular antipathy for Aziraphale. He was always acting perfect, always so gracious, rather skilled as a Captain. Worse for Hastur; He WAS all those things. He could outperform, out-think, out man any other knight he encountered. Hastur dreamed of him failing miserably and only got humiliated to see the soft-looking bastard always excelled. And his ever happy face, he just wanted to cause it pain and harm. Especially if it got to Crowley at a personal level, that would be too delicious.

Hastur was listening to the hounds moving in sweeps through the forest, the barking asking, and prodding. Then he heard it, the hook of one on a certain trail. The others responding, the frenzy and certainty.

_"Good, good, chase him. Bring him..."_

Warlock crept up behind the largest tree he could, as close as he dared. Hastur was more than a stones throw away, but he didn't want to get a millimeter closer. Something about that man made him fearful like he would use some devilish power and find him. Warlock was horrified that he was by himself, and getting more and more soaked _. "Let it work, let it work..."_

Lightning flashed again, and Hastur saw what he had been waiting for; A hooded figure on a black horse approaching where he stood in the forest clearing. The horse stopped, and Crowley slid off, whipping the reins around a branch to retain Bentley.

In the wet obscurity, Crowley was just a shape approaching. Lightning flashed and he saw the demonic eyes and evil scowl, those tartarean eyes. Crowley unsheathed that unearthly long sword as he approached. Hastur scoffed. "Ya gonna chop me up, eh?"

"Leave us alone, now," Crowley warned.

"Eh," Hastur sneered, "Ya don't scare me. And the boy? Got him hidin' in the bushes with a crossbow, mebbe? Nothing stupid, my friend, I am the only one that can stop those dogs."

Crowley shook his hood. "And I know you won't anyhow. No use wasting words then, eh?"

Hastur gave an exaggerated shrug, raising his palms. "Yeah, guess you are right. So, why not just follow me back to the city? End this playin' around?"

"You know that won't happen."

"Yeah, I know. So, " Hastur paused as the dogs became louder, "Mebbe Aziraphale can decide for you."

"Wait," Crowley said, holding up a hand. 

"Yeah?" Hastur grinned.

"If I go, can you promise that you won't hurt Aziraphale? Please?"

Crowley jabbed the sword in the ground beside himself.

Hastur stared in disbelief. "You seriously believe I'd fall for somethin' like that? Really? I know you too well."

The barking grew louder.

Crowley pulled back his hood. "I know, just buying time."

Hastur snorted. "Can't buy a nother moment, bird."

The babbling of hounds was searing closer.

"Well then," Crowley said pulling up the sword, "To the death I suppose. You know you don't stand a chance against me."

Hastur held up the crossbow. 

"Yeah, well, it ain't your fate to decide anymore."

The crescendo of mad barking ripped through the underbrush. 

Hastur and Crowley both spun towards that chaos.

The pack of dogs blew past. Lean, racing, bobbing with mad brutal fury. But there was no lion. 

Hastu'rs mind went blank, and then he saw the ruse;

A rabbit frantically raced ahead of the pack. But not just a rabbit, a rabbit with several pieces of white cloth tied around it's pumping body. Cloth from Aziraphale's riding cloak.

"It worked!" Warlock cheered quietly.

"No! You bitches! Stop!" Hastur screamed, but the Hounds were frenzied and continued their pursuance. Hastur shrieked in frustration and Crowley was laughing manically.

Hastur spun towards him, raising the crossbow. Crowley still had the longsword, but held it idly. He smirked at Hastur, utterly bemused.

Hastur took on a hellish appearance.

"You! You tricked me! And the Rat! I'll fillet him for this!"

"Hastur," Crowley mock chided, "Calm down, you just got outfoxed is all. Like I always have done."

Hastur spun back and forth in a mad circle, trying to keep the weapon on Crowley. 

"Oh god, the cat could be anywhere!"

"Which reminds me," Crowley mockingly added as he snapped a finger. "There. Wouldn't want to hurt an innocent rabbit. The cloth is now tied around one of the hounds. That ought to keep them engaged." The barking was growing more distant, but took on a new excitement, not of a hunt but of combat. 

Hastur glowered, barely able to keep his finger off the trigger.

"YOU!!! You... why would you do such a thing?!?!? Where is he?! You bloody go with me now or I'll shoot one of those eyes out!"

"Now, now," Croely scolded, "Gabriel wouldn't like that. Very fond of my mysterious golden eyes, his very words."

Hastur gave another animal shriek.

"No! You are bluffin'! "

Crowley pulled back his head and dropped his jaw in mock offense. "Hastur, friend, would I lie to you? Like you lied to Aziraphale on that day? 

" **Enough**! Where is cat?! You tell 'im to leave me alone or I'll kill you."

Crowley lowered his head, rain dripping from the front of his hood like a veil before his eyes. His face became serious.

"Tell him yourself."

Hastur heard a crackle of a noise behind him.

His eyes pulled his whole face around to see The Lion, just several meters away. It was lowered to the ground, head down, mouth slightly agape, letting out a rumble. Its eyes blazed madly and glared right into Hastur's.

_"Hello, Hastur....."_

Everything happened at once;

Crowley swiftly proceeded to raise the longsword. Hastur swung the crossbow from Crowley to the Lion in a dead panic.

"No!" Crowley shrieked, having assumed he'd have kept the weapon on him instead.

The Lion snarled and sprang forward. Hastur shrieked and fired. 

With a simultaneous shriek, Crowley looked terrified and froze his motion. The Lion banked hard to the side as if something pulled it's legs away forcefully. The bolt barely missed him and his legs pulled right back into the straight run at Hastur. Lightening illuminated everything again with pure white light, making the Lion blend in with the whole world for an instant, except for the eyes; still hurtling forward, deadlocked on the man, blue as death.

Hastur was still squawking, but that was drowned by thunder crashing and Aziraphale roaring as he landed on top of the man.

Warlock felt every ounce of fear in his body and shrank behind the tree.

Hastur shrieked and struggled violently.

The full grown man struggled with everything he had, but the animal wrestled and took all that way.

Crowley was just standing there, several feet away. Black hood pulled back up, soaked, sheathing the longsword. He didn't look gleeful or upset. He looked grimly satisfied and eerily like a commander of the scene. Death making a final arrangement on some soul

The screaming stopped. The Lion kept looking down at the lifeless form and back at Crowley as he approached, letting out little incoherent roars.

Warlock felt certain he could hear what Aziraphale said.

_"I'm sorry Crowley, but, he had to go. I didn't want to, but, but, he would have killed us!"_

Crowley stalked up to the cat and flicked hard on an ear once, which made the whole animal wince and pull it's head down sheepishly.

"You idiot!" Crowley chided, putting his hands on his hips.

"I said you distract him and I'd do the deed!"

The Lion blinked and looked down.

_"I know, but..."_

"You could have been killed!!"

The Lion pleadingly looked upward.

_"But I wasn't, YOU could have been killed too! I knew what I was doing! "_

Crowley now had his arms crossed and was glaring back at the feline face. Aziraphale grumbled more a raised a paw against Crowley, blinking at the rain swatting his face. 

_"Oh Crowley, it's over now. Please forgive me? He was mine to end anyway, he aided in taking us apart."_

Crowley unfurled his arms, dropped down and caught the mane.

"But you did it! You did it!" Crowley praised, and the Lion seemed overjoyed. "You did it! He's gone and will never touch you again!! " The Lion still seemed to be holding a full conversation, like this was an adequate answer. Crowley stood up and suddenly had a disgusted look. "And you are covered in lots of blood. Ehhhh, go find a pond to wash off in, quick. Then find me at the stable, we'll be waiting." 

The Lion grumbled, still looking up at Crowley.

"Yes, no! Wash off! No more hugs until you are clean!"

It bounded off and Crowley untethered Bentley and began moving towards Warlock.

The rain was getting heavier and much much colder.

"Good job Warlock," he complimented, giving him an assuring look. Warlock was tired, soaked, and numb.

Crowley wordlessly grabbed him by the waist and hoisted him on to Bentley. He then slipped up behind him and urged the horse away. Warlock couldn't see anything ahead of him, except when there was an occasional flash. A short time passed and they made it back to the stable. Crowley didn't even get off the horse, he just snapped his fingers and the large door groaned opened. 

_"These are things I need to learn. Seriously,_ " Warlock silently marveled.

They entered the doorway as Crowley snapped his fingers again to relight some of the candles and close the door. 

He dismounted and helped Warlock down and slipped the bridle from Bentley. "Get some sleep, my friend," he urged, giving him a gentle push that guided the horse over to the other end of the stable by the hayrack.

"Warlock, we'd better dry our clothes," Crowley suggested. "I can get them dry in a few hours before we leave."

Warlock let his emotional sogginess pervade his response.

"Awww, leave? Tonight?"

"The rain will let up in an hour. But we'll rest longer than that and leave before the sunrise. So, get out of your soaked clothes and dry off."

Warlock was peeling out of all he could and wringing each article of clothes out before spreading it around. The air was growing noticeably colder and Warlock felt icy breaths probing through the cracks in the wall. His teeth were chattering loud enough as he got down to his trousers that Crowley looked over, twisting his brows.

"Oh, yeah, sorry. I forgot. People can get cold."

"Dd--d--don't you?" Warlock chattered, rubbing himself. 

"Only under special circumstances," Crowley said before gasping. "Jesus have mercy on you, put something else on! You are spending a night in your wet trousers?"

He was glaring at Warlock like he was a total fool.

"I... d-d-d-on't have extra clothes! I am not g-g-g-onna be naked!" Warlock protested.

Crowley was drinking the last from the bottle, shirtless, flipping his hand through his auburn locks to dry them, and gave an unequivocal shrug.

"Well, then...." Crowley looked around, "Wear one of Aziraphale's shirts. Get under a blanket. Crawl in the hay. Cuddle up with Bentley. Do something."

Crowley had already stripped and was reclad in loose black pants that looked skirt-like to Warlock. 

He approached Warlock with a wad of Aziraphale's clothes and a look that threatened that he would personally strip him of his remaining wet clothes. He thrust the hand out holding the clothing, other hand on his hip. "I mean, Aziraphale isn't wearing any clothes right now, so you both can be stark naked and that won't bother me. But you aren't covered in fur and I'd hate to be looking at your blue prickly gooseflesh for the next few hours.

"Okay! F-f-f-ine! " Warlock said snatching them away. He slipped on the off-white linen shirt and discreetly slipped off his trousers and hung them up. 

"See? Better. Are you s-s-satisfied?" Warlock crossed his arms feeling embarrassed and still cold.

Crowley gave a birdlike twist of his head looking at Warlock, and the corners of his mouth had a melancholy twitch. 

"May I?" he asked, holding out a hand as he approached with an earnest face.

Warlock, arms still tightly crossed, shrugged, not knowing what he wanted. 

Crowley knelt down beside him a very thoughtfully embraced around his shoulders, touching his forehead against Warlock's cheek.

Warlock hadn't expected this and had no idea how to react.

_"Uhhh, okay. Totally weird and creepy, nobody walk in right now, please. ..."_

Warlock felt odd, but abruptly better like he was dry inside out. Even his hair felt dry. Crowley stood up, looking pleased.

"Uhh, what did you...?" Warlock sheepishly requested, ruffling his dry locks. 

"Got you dry, clearly."

"How ...did..."

Crowley shrugged and turned towards the door, slipping on a black long-sleeved tunic. 

"Trick my mother taught me," he said simply.

Warlock was marveling at his own dry hands and wanted to cack something about being shocked Crowley had a mother. He stopped when he felt those words. 

_"Aww, Shadwell said something about his mom. She was supposed to have been a witch or dated the devil. Did his mom love him? Probably. Did he leave her? Or did she die? Did he have to leave? Probably the only person that ever cared about him. Until he met Aziraphale."_

Crowley had the door open a crack and was snapping his fingers every few seconds at the darkness, giving off sparks, illuminating his worried face as he stared out.

Within a moment, he pushed the door open and stepped back as Aziraphale entered.

Aziraphale looked around the room and then up at Crowley shutting the door. He was starting to make noises and press against Crowley, who held up a hand and backed off. 

"Wait, wait....now shake off," Crowley sternly instructed.

The Lion gave a full-bodied shake and even Warlock felt droplets from across the room.

Crowley sighed and knelt down by the Lion, which could barely contain its excitement.

"Hold still, I'm trying to get you dry," Scolded Crowley, mostly talking into the mane.

Aziraphale calmed and had his eyes closed, the blocky chin jutted upward. Crowley, still embracing, scooted around slightly and pressed his head against Aziraphale's, closing his eyes. 

Aziraphale was mesmerizing as a lion. All the pictures and references Warlock had seen before made lions the color of dirt with dark manes. Not this one. His fur was soft-looking as new snow at sunrise. The mane was so luscious and seemed to be half of the creature, covering even down his front to his elbows. The face was uncannily human and noble and charmingly highlighted around the eyes, nose, and mouth with black lines. 

Warlock was mystified and placed one of the beams reaching the roof between himself and the lion. In the dim light, the whole scene looked religious. Crowley's tall figure stooping to embrace in a forgiving manner, his black sleeves of long fabric had a wing-like look. The Lion, godlike in its majesty, and rapturous against its deliverer. Of course, then Warlock spotted the blue cloth binding around one of the large padded feet. 

"There, better?" Crowley said, opening his eyes. The cat licked Crowley's face in response, to which he peeled back.

"Ack! You know you take the skin off when you do that!" Crowley criticized. Aziraphale seemed satisfied and looked around the room, noticing Warlock.

_"Of course the eyes are blue."_

Warlock was thoroughly frozen seeing those eyes, so terrifyingly familiar he expected to hear his voice as the lion opened it's mouth and continued making noise.

"Oh yes," Crowley realized. "Warlock, come over here and say hello."

Warlock moved from behind the beam but didn't let go.

"Uh, hello..."

The Lion immediately responded with noises and blinked. Warlock could just hear it in his mind.

_"Hello Warlock! And how are doing this evening?"_

"I think I'm going to get some sleep now, thanks."

Crowley scoffed.

"Aziraphale, go over and tell him what a good job he did for you tonight, please. He's too modest."

 _"So this is what it's like to be prey,_ " Warlock squeaked internally as the Lion stood up and bounded over.

It bumped against him hard and Warlock held up his arms across his body. _"He's as tall as me..."_

He felt a paw encircle his back as he strained to see beyond the fur. Then he felt a head rubbing him aggressively and Aziraphale began to spin around him, rubbing, growling the whole time.

"See?" he heard Crowley saying. "No different than in the day. Very friendly and cute on the outside, but could still kill you."

"Uuuhm, yeah, " warlock squeaked, hugging himself as the Lion sat beside him and stared with a comfortable look. Warlock cautiously reached up to scratch by the ears, which set Aziraphale off in another round of rubbing and circling.

"Alright, Angel, time to rest for everyone."

The Lion bounded up and over to Crowley, who was settling under a blanket on a makeshift resting pad of straw and horse blankets. He was still leaning up, back against the wall as the lion circled and laid down like an oversized house cat, resting its head and paws on Crowley.

Warlock went to a nearby pad with his blanket, watching them.

Crowley was stroking the mane as the lion shifted its eyes to Warlock and it growled something. 

"He said good-night Warlock," Crowley murmured.

"Uhh, good night. Aziraphale."

Crowley snapped the lights out. The rain was less, but still pattering like a lullaby outside.

The Lion had a grin over its enormous face as it settled down fully. Crowley's eyes were only half shut, one hand still moving along the fur. Aziraphale let out one more grumble.

Crowley sighed. 

"I love you too, Angel."

Crowley slipped back into one of his old memories playing out as nightmares. _"_

_Maybe they will disappear with the curse if we end it. Wouldn't that be a novelty."_

_________________________________________

"He is really the Angel of Tadfield, isn't he?"

Crowley looked up from his work and saw Gabriel. 

Tall, smooth, radiating. It yanked him so hard from his thoughts as his whole being spun back into his old defensive and recoiling ways.

_"So pushy, so dominating. And I still can't read his thoughts."_

"Uhh, I'm sorry, uh, your Eminence," Crowley apologized, folding his hands over the books protectively while keeping his voice mild.

"You are talking about Aziraphale, I gather?"

Gabriel's eyes crinkled in approval. "Of course! Who else would I be talking about? A real wonderful hero and leader! Never fails to do whatever task I throw at him!"

_"Throw at him? You mean you throw him at every problem and he's such a good person her just killed himself doing it."_

Crowley put on a perfunctory grin. "Oh, uh, yes. Wonderful man. Really man of his troops."

Gabriel gave a satisfied bob of his head, pressed his hands together, and began circling Crowley slowly at his desk.

Crowley started pulling himself over his books, part out of his natural privacy, and part because he felt like clutching the desk a little for support.

 _"What the hell? These goddam religious types, so goddam happy trying to save my goddam soul. Aren't you over this, you preening peacock? I've been here for months now."_

"Yes! He is! It's like a heavenly order for him to have made it through that battle, and a miracle he survived it!"

Crowley sighed. "Yeah, a real miracle," he said between his teeth. _"If you let me go he'd never have been hurt in the first place."_

"Which is why I came to compliment no just him, but YOU!" Gabriel was holding the back of the chair Crowley sat in. 

_"Oh gods, I don't want your compliments. I mean, unless I'm getting another raise maybe."_

Crowley turned a little and gave a constrained grin.

"Uh, thanks, it was the least I could do to help save his life."

"And the other soldiers injured as well! Really, your knowledge has been priceless and like a miracle as well," Gabriel raved and he clamped a hand on Crowley's shoulder from behind. 

_"This... is... too much. What the hell does he want from me, cure lepers next? Please don't touch me."_

"Uh, my pleasure."

"Which is also important to me, Crowley" Gabriel added cooly, starting to flex his grip back and forth.

Crowley snatched up his books in his arms and stood up, making the chair squawk and push Gabriel back.

He spun to face him, trying to lock his eyes. _"He's definitely been given a glamor, he doesn't want anyone to know anything..."_

"Uh, Gabriel, I mean, your Eminence," Crowley said inhaling, "I am flattered and can't tell you how much I appreciate this job now..."

"And don't be modest, Crowley." Gabriel maintained that generative grin and re-placed his hand on Crowley's shoulder as he faced him. "You are far too interesting a person not to be flattered more often. That's what I'm here for."

Crowley felt trapped. _"Holy gods, this is abuse. He now has me to where I can't lash back or I'll be fired. Or driven away. And he wants something from me like everyone does..."_

Gabriel's fingers moved from the cloth of Crowley's shirt and made contact with the skin of his neck. Crowley felt the jolt and was slammed with Gabriel's real thoughts. _Grabbing. Holding. Restraining. There's no use fighting my control, I own you. Fear me and obey._

" _He doesn't just want me FOR something... gods...._ **_No_ **."

Crowley pushed backward but ungracefully masked it with a bow while still clutching his books.

"Well, glad to know I can call on you any time for flattery! But it's getting late and I must check on Aziraphale." 

Crowley backed towards the door, not wanting to lose his sight of Gabriel.

"Aziraphale?" Gabriel questioned, pressing his hands back together while slowly encroaching toward Crowley. " Isn't he ready to be discharged and go back to his post? He was raving all day how much better he felt. He couldn't stop talking about you, that's why I visited you. You don't need to overwork yourself."

"Oh, uh, no! One more night under my observation! If you please, my lord. It would..." Crowley hit the door with his back and slammed his hand again the pull.

 _"As I guessed, you locked it. Well, here's a surprise for you..."_ the lock snapped internally and Crowley opened the door.

"...Uhh, please me ever so much to know he's in perfect shape!" Crowley bared his teeth in a manner that wasn't even pretending to be a grin.

Gabriel stopped, obviously confused by the door not being locked, before he recollected his thoughts.

He held his hands up in his gracious fashion. 

"Of course! It's important to all of Tadfield for our Captain to be back in tip top form! Another night. I expect both of you to be back in service tomorrow. Until then, please don't hesitate to come directly to me, Crowley, with anything you may need."

Crowley lingered speechlessly in the doorway for a moment before slamming it. His heart was racing so fast it made him dizzy. Sounds seemed to drift in his head and past his ears with no coherence. People had found him alluring before and had done similar actions, but this felt personal and frightening. 

_"I can't believe it. Again, I am so happy and something has to invade that. Take it away."_

He gathered his thought. He must be reading in too deep. That was all. Gabriel was just driven by a religious zeal to try and correct his demoniac ways. _"But... that's not what I felt when we touched."_

He sighed and pressed his hand against the door pull.

" _There, locked from this side now. Have fun with that."_

__________________________

Warlock felt a hand shaking him from sleep.

"Warlock, time to go. Put on your clothes and get ready."

When Warlock opened his eyes, there were only a few dim lights re-lit. 

Aziraphale the Lion was sitting by the door, twitching his tail from side to side, occasionally looking back in anticipation.

Crowley had strapped the saddle on Bentley and was securing the packs. He was already fully dressed and in his over cloak.

Warlock slipped into the thankfully dried clothes and got on his cape. Grabbing up his blanket and spare shirt, he handed them to Crowley who stuffed them in one of the saddlebags. Warlock flinched when he apprehended the Lion was standing next to him peering at his face. It made the softest grumble and seemed to be asking the obvious. _"Are you ready? Did you get some sleep? Did you put on your cloak?"_ Crowley flung himself up onto the saddle, stooped over and grabbed Warlock, hoisting him up in front of him.

"Let's go, Angel" he whispered, snapping his fingers. The door opened and Aziraphale dashed to it. He peered around, turned back with a snarl, and dashed out.

The horse trotted forward as Crowley snapped out the lights. The frigid wind clawed at Warlock's cheeks. The world had decided to slip into winter after the rain. The skies were clear now, and the stars rippled in the sky. But it was cold. Warlock clutched himself and pulled his hood tight. Crowley was loosely holding him but sensed Warlock was drifting off and starting to bob forward violently.

_"Ahh, youth. Have to love it. The ability to fall asleep anywhere anytime. I'm envious."_

After he toppled again Crowley grabbed Warlock with one arm and clutched him close.

"Hey, you'd better not fall or Aziraphale will have to drag you along," Crowley warned.

Warlock made an indiscernible noise, not even raising his head, falling dead asleep.

"Fine, " Crowley conceded, clutching him closer and pulled up the edge of his cloak over Warlock.

"I'll save you that humiliation, Master Warlock. You'll owe me for it." 

The Lion padded ahead of the horse and riders, blinking upwards at the glimmering night sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the mule is named Dick Turpin. He does hold up traffic.
> 
> Well, Hastur had it coming.  
> It will be explained in the prequel; Yes, Aziraphale really has reasons to be out for Hastur.
> 
> White Lions are NOT albino lions and do have stunning blue eyes. Look them up, they are magically stunning to see!
> 
> Yes, Gabriel is a creep. I found it easiest to describe it like classic sexual harassment at the workplace.
> 
> And Warlock has never seen harem pants so assumes it's a skirt Crowley is wearing. Crowley has been around and wears what he wants.


	10. Desires of the soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale quizzes Crowley and Warlock about the previous night and reveals more of his feelings and fears. Warlock comes to understand the curse and torment even more.
> 
> Flashback with Gabriel and Aziraphale.

A morning touched by the first scent of winter lay over Tadfield. 

The sun seemed further and colder than ever. 

"The moon was your sun, you said so yourself once."

Gabriel looked out over the landscape from the Church balcony.

No word from Hastur for days. No reports or sightings from any of the men or spies. Nothing.

"Where the hell is he? If he fails..."

\----------------------

Warlock smelled the familiar smell of campfire smoke as he came to his senses. He pulled the blankets off his head and was greeted with frosty air. The sun was just creeping over the mountainous horizon. 

_ "Oh yeah, we are outside again. What a night." _

He saw Aziraphale over by Bentley, unbraiding the horse's mane.

Aziraphale spotted Warlock moving and smiled. "Good morning! Did you sleep well?"

"Oh, sure," Warlock said.

"And I see Crowley decided to move us overnight?" Aziraphale questioned as he raked his fingers through the unraveling hair. " Did anything happen? Crowley hasn't been by yet this morning, which is odd."

"Oh, uh, nothing important," Warlock yawned loudly while stretching.

The sound of a raven cawing approached. Aziraphale looked skyward behind Warlock and raised a hand up for Crowley. 

Much to his shock, but more to Warlock's shock, Crowley landed on one of Warlock's upraised arms.

"Good morning. Warlock," Crowley greeted.

Aziraphale's mouth opened slightly and his arm lowered. 

"That's the first time he's said your name," he puffed, soundly mildly worried. 

"Oh, well, that's great," Warlock said, flapping his arm a little.

"I guess he finally remembers it as a Raven or something.... please get off me and go to your Knight."

Crowley hopped up and landed on Warlock's head. 

"Haha!"

"Get get get!" Warlock hissed waving his hands.

"Begon, Ladycrowe!"

Crowley hopped to the ground between Warlock and Aziraphale and looked up, back and forth. Aziraphale held had a hand back out, but Crowley seemed content to stomp around on the ground. 

Aziraphale had the most confused look on his face. Warlock detected a pang of jealously. 

"Warlock," Aziraphale asked quietly. "Did something, happen?"

"Uuuh, nope. No. Nothing at all...."

Crowley looked up at Warlock and then back at Aziraphale.

Aziraphale twitched his mouth sideways. "Well," he attempted, "At least you two are getting along well, I take it?"

"Obviously," Crowley said.

"Oh, uh, sure," Warlock said, carefully trying to think out his choice of response. "He's really not that bad, once you get to know him."

Aziraphale looked pensive for a moment as he paced over to a log and sat down at it, staring at the ground.

_ " I mean, he wanted me to talk and be with him, why is he so sad now?" _ Warlock took a step closer.

Aziraphale let out a jagged sigh. "I apologize, Warlock, I just... well. It's so hard for me to finally talk with someone who sees and hears things I've been denied for two years. Hear a voice I can only hear in my dreams and memories. See a face...." 

He trailed off looking down at the Raven, who looked back and hopped up to the log.

"Awwww," it offered.

"Tell me, Warlock, " Aziraphale started, "What did you talk about?" 

This sounded mildly challenging like Aziraphale wanted to find some lie. 

"Well, uh, let's see... ' _ Keep it clean, try and think of the stuff that might make him happy.. _ .' When I came back to find him, he was, uh, braiding up Bentley's hair. He said it gave you something to do."

Aziraphale looked uncannily cattish watching Warlock talk. He gave a slow irked blink and looked down at the Raven.

"Eh, what?" The bird shrugged off.

"And?"

"Well, uhhh, we just sat around and talked."

"Yep," Crowley confirmed.

Aziraphale got that sharp unamused look. 

"I'll venture a guess that both of you might be lying a little. Tell me something he did or said. I'll know if it's truly his words."

Warlock held his hands behind his back.  _ "Okay, maybe the flat out truth is needed, I'll try that." _

"He said you were a horrible dancer...?"

Aziraphale rolled his eyes and huffed, and looked at Crowley.

Crowley opened his beak and just made a stream of noise that Warlock felt was like sticking out a tongue in jest. 

"Alright," Aziraphale conceded, "Anything else? Please, Warlock,"

Aziraphale's face completely changed and he looked pained. 

"Did he talk about.... us? Me?"

"  _ 'He said you were stubborn.... wait, uhm, surely he said something nice.' _ Uhm, he said you are just like when you are a lion; kind of cute and kind of deadly."

Aziraphale crossed his arms, narrowed his eyes.

"Touching," he scoffed uncharacteristically. 

"I agree," Crowley added. Aziraphale looked the opposite way of the Raven.

" ' _ Try harder Warlock, real hard'. _ He talked about, well, about his mom some. And he hears what you are telling him. And that you always try and deal with problems, which you do. And he really wanted you to see me last night, so we did. "

Aziraphale was still looking away, but relaxed his features

"You mean, as ...the .... "

"Lion. Yep. I thought you were awfully scary at first, but just like you are all the time you were really nice. "

Warlock gave a compelled grin and flapped his hands on the sides of his legs which were starting to jitter.

_ "Jeez, why acting like suck a crybaby? _ "

Aziraphale's face slowly moved to face Warlock, still looking testy.

"Well, glad to hear it."

Warlock decided he couldn't with-hold everything.

"Well, alright, he also said you are really stubborn...."

Aziraphale looked at the Raven sharply, and the bird actually cowered some. 

"....And that you think with your heart more than your head. And when you get cross you are kind of cute..."

The Raven let out a throaty noise and Warlock realized Aziraphale's face was a shade pinker.

"And the first time you kissed his hand he thought it was gross, but he said we had to dance because you'd want us to...."

Aziraphale was doing his best to suppress a small smirk but failing.

"And he really liked the wine and drank it all! Well, he gave me some too."

"Did you actually let him drink?!" Aziraphale chortled.

"Maybe."

"And was worried about you and waited by the door till you came to him, and he was telling me everything you were saying and he called you angel, and he hugged you dry and told you not to lick his face, and he said he said he loved you."

Warlock put on a smug grin. 

"Does that all check out? Sound like your Crowley?"

Aziraphale still had his arms crossed, but eyes closed and face blushing. 

"It does. Thank you Warlock."

"Yeah," Crowley agreed.

"Great! " Warlock said flipping his hands. "So, Crowley is a really cool guy after all. He seemed kind of shy at first but really is funny too. And he's got wicked talents like making the candles go out when he snaps his fingers!" 

Aziraphale was smiling and reached out to brush the Raven on the head.

"And he has a really cool longsword too!" Warlock gushed, raised his hands.

Aziraphale was still brushing Crowley, yet stealthily investigated.

"So, why did he need his longsword? You didn't need it, did you?"

he absently demanded, eyes on the bird.

"Hhmmmmm," Crowley hummed.

"Oh we did..... Uhm, I mean, he wanted to show me it because I asked!" Warlock rushed.

Aziraphale was thoughtfully amused. 

"That sounds like the first stretch of the truth. Crowley? Why did you need a longsword last night? Was there trouble?" 

The Raven was occupied with the head-scratching and just muttered without a second thought.

"Hmmmm... Hastur."

"HASTUR?!"

"Uh-oh," Crowley replied, opening his corvid eyes.

Aziraphale moved at the deadly speed Warlock always discredited him having, and had both his hands around Crowley's feathered body, pinning his wings down before he could take flight.

Aziraphale looked irritated.

"No, you are not leaving until I am told the full story, and you are NOT leaving this all on Warlock either."

Crowley protested loudly but simmered down.

Looking stricken, Aziraphale sighed.

"Hastur?" he weakly asked.

"Yep," Warlock replied quietly.

"What... happened? Did he track us down?"

"Uh-huh. With a pack of dogs..."

Aziraphale suddenly looked startled. 

"Dogs.... I remember them. Barking and running... oh god."

He had been holding Crowley out at an arm's length but pulled the bird closer in a protective manner.

"And..... what happened?"

"Well, uh let's see. He confronted us and Crowley told me he wasn't a sorcerer, but he had dirty tricks. And he taunted us and said he wanted to kill you and take Crowley back with him."

Aziraphale was almost clutching the Raven, looking agonized.

"And?"

"Crowley said no and that he'd kill himself first..."

Aziraphale winced and peered down at the bird. 

"...And then he left to find you, but Crowley and me tricked the dogs to go away, and Crowley confronted him with his sword! " 

Warlock was hoping this emphasized drama on the last part would make Aziraphale assume Crowley had done the deed and that was the end of the story. 

Aziraphale let out a breath and seemed slightly calmer.

"Is Hastur... gone?"

"Mmmm-hhhhmmmm!" Warlock said, nodding so hard he rocked his body and whipped his dark lanky bangs.

Aziraphale got a mischievous look on his face.

"Marvelous!"

"He was really gross!" Warlock confirmed.

Aziraphale's face became even more roguish.

"He was one of the most loathsome humans we ever met. And you did it!" Aziraphale held the still pinned Crowley up to his face gleefully. 

"You did away with that vile creature and he'll never touch you again!"

"You did it," Crowley corrected.

Aziraphale scrunched his face up in amusement.

"No! I didn't......." A mortified expression washed over the Knight's countenance in a flash and he released his grip on Crowley who fluttered to the ground.

"Oh god, I did, didn't I?"

"Obviously," Crowley confirmed, hopping back up on the log and staring smugly.

Aziraphale was frozen with his arms still out and a humiliated expression. He was still a statue but his eyes glanced at Warlock.

"Did I?" he asked in a tiny voice.

Warlock just nodded helplessly.

Aziraphale swiftly looked relinquished and placed his hand on his knees, righting his body up quickly. 

"Well then! Perhaps he did have the end he deserved. Right, Crowley?"

"Yeah..." Crowley muttered.

"Well, Crowley was going to do the deed," Warlock added helpfully, "And seemed kind of mad you did it. He said you might have gotten killed."

Aziraphale shook his head at the bird. 

"Crowley, I know what I am doing, please stop worrying like that."

"Bah!"

"But then," Warlock continued, "He was so proud of you!"

Aziraphale looked gratified until Crowley cut back in.

"Ripped his head off! HA!"

Aziraphale sighed. "Too much information, dear."

"Blood! Lots!" The Raven gushed, flapping his wings.

"Not in front of the child, Crowley."

"He saw!!" 

Aziraphale rolled his eyes upward and gave his head a helpless shudder.

"Anyhow," Warlock quickly injected, "He's gone and Crowley was so happy and proud of you and made you take a bath. And we got back to the barn we dried off...."

"Did he dry you off?" Aziraphale asked pleasantly. 

"Uhhh, yeah," Warlock said sheepishly. "It was really weird. He dried you off too."

"Of course he did," Aziraphale approved, holding a hand out to the bird. 

"But he kept... talking to you like a person. While you fell asleep. He really isn't that scary when you get to know him, and seems kind of shy. "

Aziraphale was holding the Raven up and bowed his head down a little.

"Sorry Warlock that I've put you through all this and what I've asked of you. Everything. You are too young to be burdened with our tragedy. Yet I know you have heard a voice and seen a face in one night more than I have in the last two years. It makes me feel so much closer but so much more distant at the same time. Do you understand? And for me to expect that you must assist both of us..... I'm sorry."

"I'm not," Crowley glibly added.

"You never are," Aziraphale teased looking at the bird.

"Oi!"

Warlock grinned a little and shrugged.

"Hey, not like I was doing anything constructive before this! Besides, it's like I'm in a real adventure, which is kind of cool."

Aziraphale looked at the bird and back at Warlock.

"Did you know that many animals, like Lions and Ravens, will pair for life? I mean, " Aziraphale gave a quick shake of his blinking head and waved his free hand. "A pair of Lions and a Pair of Ravens. Not a Raven and a Lion. Sorry. Anyhow. Had we been cursed forever as a pair of any animal, it would have been terrible. But," He held up the free hand, "We would still have each other. All the time. Gabriel didn't even grant us that."

Warlock felt sorry. 

"Yeah, I see. Even a pair of..... I dunno, any animal. Ducks or something. You'd guys would still be together. Did the Bishop pick what you were going to be? Or did you guys choose?"

Aziraphale looked thoughtful.

"Both our natures came out. The Bishop wanted us to be more.... helpless in a sense. Like little pets. But I think he didn't have that control over the curse as much as planned. He always called Crowley a bird and perhaps got his wish. Gabriel told me I was always a lap dog or a housecat..."

"He wanted you to be a cat or a little dog?" Warlock snorted incredulously. 

Aziraphale had the mischievous look on his face that answered yes.

"And, because, you were called a Lion you became one?!"

"Maybe. Or maybe Gabriel underestimated. I don't know, it was the worst day of my life...."

"Me too," Crowley agreed.

"Yes, you too. And perhaps I can tell you more another time. It shall be over soon enough." He stood, still holding up Crowley, gesturing to the hills nearby. "Tadfield is on the other side of that range."

_ "Wow, it did seem familiar here. We're almost back." _

"Enough for now. Come on, Warlock! I made tea!"

"Tea!" Crowley whooped.

Warlock groaned. 

_ "I gotta find Shadwell. Tonight." _

_ -______________________________________ _

The moonlight slanted through the window dimly but was more than enough to see all he needed to see. Crowley was laying on his side, half-covered with the blanket, arms pulled up under his head, red hair flowing over his hands. Still sleeping. Aziraphale pulled on his jacket and leaned down to Crowley. He kissed him on the side of his face and pulled up, buttoning up the last button. Crowley didn't even stir.

" Crowley, I can't lose you to this. I will end it. " He glanced back one last time. Quietly he shut the door and paced up the street. The path he knew so well but he wasn't even sensing any of it, his mind was already tumbling out his replies. One to Crowley. One to Gabriel.

Sitting at his own desk he looked up at the sunrise creeping into view. 

_ "Not much time." _

He quickly wrote out the letter and sealed it. 

_ "It will be over. We shall be free." _

__ He heard a knock and Newton's voice.

"Ehm, Sir? You said you needed my assistance very early this morning?"

"Yes, Newton, come in please."

Newton entered, looking puzzled. 

"Newton, help me into that-" Aziraphale gestured towards his armour, "-and then saddle my horse."

Newton blinked and slowly began to move to action. "Uhh, may I ask what the purpose is, Sir?"

"I shall be discussing matters with The Bishop," Aziraphale said curtly.

"Matters? The Bishop?" Newton was wrestling with the armour pieces. "About what, Sir? Is this a battle, Sir?"

Aziraphale frowned as Newton began buckling pieces on.

"I don't know," he sighed.

\--

Aziraphale hoped that being suited and on the charger would give him a braver feeling. It didn't. The streets were oddly bare and the sky seemed to be dawning lifelessly. 

_ "Why does this whole day feel blighted? I'm just worrying, that's all. Don't worry, Crowley, it shall be over soon. I'm the brave one, remember?" _

Newton stood at waiting.

"Uhmm, good luck? Sir."

Aziraphale gave him a grim nod.

"Thank you, Newton. And do deliver that note to Sir Crowley, please. But, not yet, he'll still be asleep. " Aziraphale kicked the horse and began trotting up the street. 

___________

Aziraphale strode up the church steps.

_ "They seem taller and further than ever before. I feel so small. Why?" _

He approached the door and raised a fist to knock, but was startled when it swung open. One of the Brothers stood behind it, timidly. 

Aziraphale cleared his throat. "Eh, hello. I have come to speak with the Bishop Gabriel. I wasn't invited, but I must demand to have his personal attention now about...."

"Aziraphale!" bloomed Gabriel's voice from within, but not far within.

"Do come in! I've been expecting you."

Aziraphale halted. 

" _ He's been... waiting? No, he doesn't know about us.... it can't be....  _ "

Gabriel watched the shielded figure enter and stride across the plaza to where he stood alone.

Aziraphale's face was emotionless and frank looking.

"Your Eminence," he greeted formally as he came face to face.

Gabriel looked immaculate as ever, the self-satisfied grin not changing. 

"Well, if it isn't our own Lion of Tadfield, asking for my attention which I was already planning on giving?"

Aziraphale gave his head a jerk. "And, may I ask, why, your grace?"

"Oh, come on, Aziraphale. I've known you for too long. You finally made your move. I admit," Gabriel raised a finger and gave a half wink. "You almost could have gotten away with it. But, sooner or later it had to come out..."

"Yes, I admit," Aziraphale cut in. "I am ready to step down from my duties. I feel I am no longer capable of dedicating all my energy as a full time Captain."

Gabriel pulled his head back and narrowed his eyes quizzically downward at Aziraphale. 

"Well, I see. Of course!" Gabriel began to stroll in a circle around Aziraphale, who stood motionless. "I can't blame your choice, you've been nothing but loyal and dedicated to the Church and City. A truly commendable job for any man."

"Then, I can have my leave?" Aziraphale asked, trying to sound mild.

"No worries, we are taking it for you."

"Oh?"

"Listen, Aziraphale," Gabriel said with false chumminess, slamming a hand down on his shoulder. "It's not the fact your troops love you and support you more than they support me... me! The gosh darn Bishop for the love of god! It's not the fact that you are one loyal little lap dog I thought I could never question the service of. It's not the fact you are about to be discharged dishonorably, humiliated, physically and emotionally pained, and your post was given to someone you loath." He was still clutching Aziraphale's shoulder as he came to face him again.

"It's the fact you have everything I ever want and I just can't seem to get."

Aziraphale glowered back.

"And what's that?" he popped curtly. "A real soul?"

Gabriel laughed. "Whohoo! Good one, Aziraphale! Of course not!"

He gave an ironic shrug. "I'm the Bishop, I'm all soul! Seriously. No, thanks to our good friend Shadwell here..." Gabriel gestured across the room and Aziraphale saw the brother peering out from behind a corner.

_ "Oh god, no...." _

"Well, he confirmed something for me. Something I was looking right past but is so damn obvious!"

Aziraphale's mouth opened, though he was still gazing as Shadwell.

"I'm sorry, " Shadwell wailed. "Forgive me...."

"I can't," whispered Aziraphale as he turned to Gabriel who was still leering. "Gabriel, please listen..."

The Bishop looked utterly amused.

"Sorry, Aziraphale, I can't. I won't. It's over for both of you."

"Crowley..."

"Is mine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I have been busy and a little slower writing!  
> \--  
> A bit of a quiet chapter more focused on Aziraphale.  
> \----  
> Again, NOT SUGGESTION AT ALL that Aziraphale feels there's anything sexual going on, he's just feeling jealous that Crowley is paying attention to Warlock and that he can't be there to interact.  
> __________  
> Cameo by Newton!


	11. Thin Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale is dead set to re-enter the city.  
> Shadwell and Warlock try and convince Crowley otherwise with the words that may or may not foretell their fates.  
> The gang has a deathly encounter on the ice.  
> Warlock finally sees the near-touch the two are condemned to daily.
> 
> Another brief flashaback.  
> Mild Trigger Warning; This involves breaking through ice and panic, if that sets you off, please take note.

Aziraphale frowned from the saddle at Warlock and Shadwell.

Shadwell's cart had come rumbling into sight not long after they had decided to start moving again.

"Ef' yad just lessten ta reason, Cap'in," Shadwell begged. "We could end this all."

Aziraphale puffed and looked away. 

"One way or another I shall face the Bishop, that I can agree with."

Warlock frowned and stepped forward more.

"But what if he's right?! C'mon, it's worth trying!"

"Did you ask Crowley about this?" Aziraphale tartly asked.

Warlock paused as both men looked at him.

"He... he said he didn't remember. He couldn't remember everything."

"Well, there is no more time for forgotten memories," Azirphale ended as Crowley landed on his hand.

"I return to my city and hope to restore her to her righteous state with the destruction of pure corruption within. I shall be there by tomorrow...."

"Wait just another day beyond an' see if the words are false!" Shadwell begged. "Prove me wrong that' way! Tis but another day..."

"ANOTHER day," Aziraphale snapped, "I can no longer bear. Crowley and I shall depart with or without your assistance."

Warlock felt struck. 

"You.... you can't get in without me! You need me!" he said holding his arms out.

Crowley croaked, not adding anything to the whole conversation and shifting on Aziraphale's hand.

Aziraphale looked cut as well, but murmured, "Well, I shall find a way in with or without you. Warlock, you can come with us now and help me, or-" his eyes narrowed at Shadwell. "Stay with him and wish us the best."

Warlock felt ripped to pieces staring back at Azirphale's somber expression but knew he wouldn't force his choice.

_"Jeez, lord, is this another test?! I should go help him get in, but I can't....."_

"Sorry," Warlock muttered, holding his hands behind his back and looking at his feet. Shadwell sighed and gave Warlock a confident glance.

"Goddamit...." Crowley started sputtering.

Aziraphale put on his most confident face and kicked Bentley.

He launched forward, white cape fluttering behind as Crowley took flight.

"Farewell, Warlock and thank you for all you did," he cried back.

Warlock felt his whole hope leaving with the black horse topped with the pale figure. He suddenly wanted to scream at Aziraphale for being stubborn, that they'd both be dead, that there had to be a way....

Shadwell placed a hand on his shoulder and Warlock was gripped with a need to cry. 

_"Why? I tried. Jees, don't cry infront of Shadwell, I'm not a sissy. Wasn't Aziraphale just using me this whole time? No, he liked me and I liked him. And Crowley, I liked him too..."_

"Sorry, laddie, Thanks fer' trying," Shadwell comforted.

Warlock sniffled, trying to find a reason.

"He is so stubborn. Crowley said that too. Does he want to die?"

Shadwell growled as he exhaled.

"He wants it te' end, and can't see any other way..."

Warlock turned and began to pace away towards the cart. 

"C'mon Shadwell, let's try and keep up. We might be able to convince Crowley."

Shadwell began following. "Pro'bly not, but worth ah' try...."

\-------------------------

Aziraphale had crested and descended the small hill range, leaving obvious tracks in the snow that came with the elevation. He had made camp at the range base, near the largest river outside the realm of Tadfield. That's where Warlock and Shadwell finally caught up and found Crowley, sitting alone under a bare tree with the supplies. Bentely was tied nearby.

Shadwell had paused the cart just far enough back not to be heard and carefully followed Warlock as he bound into the makeshift camp.

Warlock approached Crowley from behind, not even speaking to the hooded figure staring across the frozen river.

"Tadfield," Crowley said as Warlock came in earshot "Back again. "

"Uh, yeah," Warlock replied. "Yep, Aziraphale is determined to get in tomorrow and..."

"...end it one way or another?" Crowley filled in, still turned away.

"Yeah,".

Crowley sighed and seemed more dejected than Warlock had ever seen him yet.

"Sometimes," Crowley lamented distractedly, "We'd come close to this city. Just outside. And then we go as far as we could again."

His head dropped a little as he traced on the froze ground dusted with a thin layer of snow. 

"I told him when we first met, I wanted to take him all the places I've been and seen. He'd never left his city. Well," Crowley snorted scornfully "-except for battles. But it was his home, and now, I can see it's where his heart is. I tried going as far one way as I could several times, and he'd go back the other way every time. As the bells of the city are his guide. Even if he's miles away and can't hear them, he'll answer their call. "

"He wants to be back in by tomorrow," Warlock added quietly.

Crowley didn't move except for his hand, still tracing. 

"I promised when...." Crowley bobbed his head down even farther as if the word was gagging him. "-This happened that I would find a way out of it. I mean, hey," he flipped his hand upward, "It is my specialty. We have had two years of perpetual experiences and no answers. "

"Did you-" Warlock curiously ventured, "Ever, like... leave each other notes? Yanno? Like, write out plans and ideas oh what to do, maybe?"

Crowley finally turned his golden eyes to face Warlock with a bewildered look. 

"Of course."

"Well, I mean, did you like, write out things to try?"

Crowley still looked baffled. 

"I've probably written several tomes of letters. And he as well. Sadly, the means of writing all the time become harder and harder while always on the run. "

"Oh, yeah, I get that."

There was silence as Crowley turned to look across the river as the partially full moon rose.

"So, Master Warlock," Crowley finally requested, "What shenanigans are you and dear traitorous Shadwell up too? Yes, I know you're back behind the tree, Shadwell. I don't need any talents to hear your odious presence. "

Shadwell made a guttural noise as he approached.

"The lad ehn' aye came to try an' convince ya to perhaps listen to my words..."

"No," Crowely said mockingly while faced away. 

"-ehn perhaps have the curse undone as should be..."

"Mmm, doubtful."

"Please Crowley!" Warlock begged. "C'mon! Just listen once!"

"Lisssstening," Crowley hissed between his teeth as he stood up and faced the duo. Everything about his posture was irritated. 

He crossed his arms and was just a silhouette against the moon hued snow-dusted landscape, except for his eyes.

"Well, ehm, " Shadwell faltered, "Perhaps yer own words kin convince ya!" 

Crowley blinked.

"Try me."

Warlock looked up at Shadwell and elbowed him. 

"The book!" he whispered.

Shadwell righted his collapsed appearance with a victorious grin.

He reached in the pocket and pulled out a dog-eared book.

"Your book!"

_________________________________________

Shadwell paced back and forth as if on some introspective patrol near Crowley and Warlock. Crowley had reseated under the tree, reading the book. Warlock sat nearby until youthful impatience crept in, and he started leaning closer, trying to read over Crowley's shoulder. When that failed, he rocked around, clutching his knees, stretched on the ground, stood and paced some, and then reseated even closer.

"And?!" he finally broke. "What does it say?!"

Crowley's expression remained dour most of the time, only shifting subtly to perplexed, then back to forbidding.

He snapped the book shut with one hand.

"Shadwell?" he whispered loudly, unblinking, and slowly turning his head.

Shadwell marched forward, looking strict. "Aye?"

Crowley looked speechless.

 _"Maybe he can't believe there's an answer!"_ Warlock hoped.

Crowley's mouth was open, and he seemed to be diving deep for words.

"You idiot."

Shadwell pouted . "Whattizit?"

"Shadwell," Crowley slowly calming his murderous tone.

"This is NOT a book on astronomy. There are some of my field notes and sketches and things I was transcribing from other books.... but are you so ignorant not see what it is?!"

Shadwell looked lost. "Noooh..."

"What?" Warlock asked impatiently.

"It's my......" Crowley swallowed, looking down like he was trying to ground himself before he flew into a murderous rage, "My book of poetry and personal notes."

These words seemed to take time to get to Shadwell's brain has his eyes went sideways, and his mouth became an O. 

"OooOooooh, I kin see that now....." he slowly began. 

"You read poetry?" Warlock snickered incredulously.

Crowley turned his vicious eyes at Warlock. "Yes, Warlock," he snapped, "All intelligent people do. But this is poetry I wrote..."

Warlock covered his mouth and tried to choke back a laugh.

Crowley barred his teeth and looked back at the book. 

"Well, anyhoo, " Shadwell quickly rushed, "The passage! It says..."

"IT'S A GODDAM COPY OF ANOTHER POEM!" Crowley intervened. "From another book, no less!"

"Well, then, what's it say?!" Warlock asked, still in titters. 

"Fine! Fine!" Crowley growled, opening the book.

"You want a bloody romantic poem here!"

**" After trust of and in thyne faith lay asunder,**

**when heaven's feathers fall in sanctuary thunder,**

**when the black wings fly to save the light,**

**wait! when thyne day shall be thee night.**

**Twice round the sun shall ye travel,**

**awaytin thyne sentence to unravel.**

**Let not thy hope fell wyth the season you called forever thyne,**

**make haste, return at first rime.**

**For when he claims his evil a-circle the souls is as done,**

**Let only be ellipsed sun and the two hearts shall again be as one."**

Silence fell over the group.

Crowley was staring off into some imaginary distance. 

Shadwell still looked baffled where he stood.

Warlock looked back and forth between them.

"Well, what... does that mean?" he asked. 

"Warlock, it's a goddam poem I copied from one of Aziraphale's favourite books. It means nothing."

Warlock reached out and picked up the book left open to the page while Crowley continued his staring. 

"How the insssane HELL did you think that was some prophecy?!" Crowley hissed at Shadwell.

"Well, it all fits!" Shadwell retorted as he became frantic, trying to explain.

"Faith fallen be me! My transgressins'! ! The feathers afallen' be Azirapahle! The black wings are you! Yer day is night now!"

Crowley tipped his head, still looking violent but not responding.

"Twice years!!! Twice round the sun!" Shadwell shouted, shaking his hands at Crowley, like wasn't he putting together all the words.

"And the season you called fer'ever' yours!! The Autumn!"

"Wait," Crowley stopped, holding up a hand. "How did you know that Aziraphale and I called the Autumn that?"

"Oh, it's in the book too," Shadwell offered helpfully. "A whole damn chapter on the leaves turning and the things ya' both would like to do in the fall...."

Crowley launched up with a snarl at Shadwell who cringed.

"YOU READ THE WHOLE DAMN BOOK?!" he demanded.

"Well," Shadwell thought, looking askance, "I had aloot' of time on me hands..."

Crowley was sputtering loudly. 

"Well, it was Gabriel or me!" Shadwell barked back. 

"Ya' had better take it away' from the lad if it's so personal!"

Crowley glanced at Warlock, still pouring over the book.

"Eh," Crowley blew off, waving a hand, "He's eleven and a street urchin. He probably wouldn't know a letter if he saw one."

"Oh, I can read," Warlock murmured, only half-listening.

"Really?" Crowley winced. 

"Yeah!" Warlock earnestly confirmed looking up from the pages. 

"I had some other people show me how to read some so that I could steal better stuff. And besides, that's how I got caught last time!"

"For reading? " Crowley asked doubtingly. 

"Oh, no!" Warlock corrected freely, "Writing! I snuck into the church to steal holy water on a dare..."

"Impressive," Crowley admitted.

"But had JUST to write 'The Bishop smells like poo' on the walls, but got caught before I finished."

Crowley's cast went neutral as he looked at Warlock's happy face. He reached over and patted the top of his head. 

"Warlock, if we get out of this alive, I just might have to adopt you," Crowley sighed.

"Cool!" Warlock grinned.

"Back to the point!" Shadwell grumbled.

"The first snow hath fallen, time to return and fulfill this!"

Crowley sighed.

"It's just a poem with no instructions. A Poem, you fool."

"It's all messed up," Warlock injected as he looked harder at the page. "It looks like wine was spilled on it."

Crowley rolled his eyes.

"Makes total sense; I would have been absolutely drunk to write that."

"Well then!" Shadwell challenged, "You and Aziraphale can just march back to the church and meet yer ends! I've given ya' all I have to give both of you!" 

Crowley gave a patronizing look. 

"Not yet. Aziraphale will show up very shortly and maul you to death, and I won't be inclined to do much but watch. Maybe point and laugh a little, but that's about all." 

Shadwell stammered and bristled like a badger. Crowley barred his teeth and hissed back.

They both were locked in this animalistic standoff, neither inclined to back down until Warlock's distracted voice piped up.

"Wow, you sure did draw Aziraphale a lot too," Warlock snickered while still flipping through the pages. 

Crowley's eyes popped as he spun and yanked the book away.

"Gods, give me that back! You don't need to see any more!"

"Too late," Warlock grinned, mostly getting a rise off of irritating Crowley for the first time and not comprehending a thing he saw. 

"Adoption's off, Warlock," snorted Crowley as he paced away pocketing the book. 

"And it doesn't matter. I can't stop you fools, and I can't stop the idiot I actually care for from getting killed. I could break legs, and he'd still try and do what he's planning. So if you have any brilliant suggestions, please say them now."

"Wait! " Warlock shouted as he stood up. "I have a great idea!"

______________________________________

Crowley stood over the small pit Shadwell and Warlock were digging, arms crossed again, looking disgusted.

"I'll repeat it; this is the stupidest idea I've heard yet," he jeered.

Warlock tried to ignore him but was getting weighed by the fact that digging a pit dig enough to trap a lion a million times more labor than he imagined.

Warlock proposed they dig a pit big enough to catch Aziraphale in, force him to stay there and make Crowley talk some sense into him one way or another. Shadwell didn't object, but Crowley just gave him a baffled look and told him he was a fool. So Warlock and Shadwell commenced the work themselves and were regretting every moment.

"Well, then!" Warlock huffed angrily, "Why don't you help us?!"

Crowley winced and grabbed his shoulder. "Uggh, sorry! Still rather mincey from being shot. And all that flapping around I do takes it out of me. Nah, you keep digging. And do not throw the dirt too far, I want it easy to kick over both your bodies after I have to pull your corpses in for burial."

"HEY!" Warlock fumed, standing up. 

"It's the truth Warlock; I'm sure Aziraphale will be furious, man or lion."

"Well, then, tie him up for us! " Warlock commanded. "You can get close!"

Crowley looked bright for a change. 

"You can't tie him up."

"Why?!" Warlock demanded. 

"Because I've tried," Crowley grinned. "He gets out of any knot I try. And worst, as you can attest Warlock, he could tie you up, and you couldn't escape."

Warlock looked perplexed.

"So... you've tried to tie him up before? Why?"

Crowley looked alarmed.

"Just dig your goddam hole, now!" he hissed, turning away.

Shadwell was loudly complaining with each ounce of dirt he moved.

"Eh, we couldn't keep a kitten in thess goddam pit!"

"Keep digging, Shadwell," Warlock encouraged. "Maybe it'll be punishment for your past transgressions!"

"Big words for ah' thief!" he growled back.

"Truly amazing," Crowley snickered, "You sound like a married couple."

Both Shadwell and Warlock stopped their digging and gawked, not wanting to add any more fuel to Crowley's jape.

Crowley just gave a smug grin from above. 

"Well, keep digging you love birds."

Shadwell was making more animal noises when a Lion's roar cut through the night.

Crowley stared out at the nocturnal snowy landscape lit by the moon.

"Oh well, too late, he's coming," Crowley announced.

Shadwell was trying to clamber out of the hole but failing.

"Ack! Laddie, gimme a push!" He barked.

"You are on your own, Shadwell!" Warlock giggling climbing over his back and out the pit.

"Ya goddam infernal spawn of a demon!" Shadwell popped, trying to clamber out.

"Well maybe you could be bait?" Warlock teased.

"Shhhh!" Crowley urged suddenly. "Something is off... he's on the other side of the... river?"

Warlock had helped Shadwell out of the pit, and everyone stared out as far as they could across the frozen river.

Crowley looked confused.

"He must have run ahead to Tadfield... but... he's over there. Hmm. Just..." He held a hand at the duo as he started walking towards the roaring. "Stay here; don't get near the ice."

Crowley moved away, his head turned slightly in his hood, just as the white bounding creature came into view on the other side of the river.

"The idiot," he muttered, moving faster and raising a hand. 

The Lion was springing in their general direction when it spotted Crowley and started a straight line at him.

"Stop!" Crowley yelled, holding up a hand. "You stupid fool! Don't cross that river here!"

As the words were leaving his mouth, it was as if Aziraphale was yanked from sight except for part of his face and front paws

There was a sickening creaking and crashing as the ice broke under his weight, plunging most of his body down.

He began a pitiful roaring and clawing at the edge where he was sliding from

Shadwell and Warlock both yelled and rushed forward.

Crowley was momentarily arrested before reached up, unclasped his cloak, and chucking it off.

"DON'T GET NEAR THE EDGE!" he shrieked as he started pounding ahead of them. "AZIRAPHALE! YOU IDIOT!"

Crowley tore forward, pumping his fists back and forth with a mortified expression until he felt the ice give under one of his steps. He tried to halt his motion but teetered and lurched. He began breathing so hard his body was throbbing but looked up at the Lion clawing desperately at the crumbling edge, moaning and pleading.

_"I'm coming, I'm coming...." he thought._

Crowley flattened to a crawl and began closing the distance, shimmying along the ice. Warlock and Shadwell got as close as they dared and watched Crowley scooting across the ice to the panicked animal. Shadwell whooped and hollered stomping back and forth futilely. 

Warlock couldn't believe both Aziraphale and Crowley were about to die and he was unable to do a thing.

Then he had a stroke of ingenuity. "I have an idea!" Warlock shouted, turning around and running off.

Shadwell was standing flustered, not daring to add to the weight where Crowley was, but leaned closer and cupped his hands around his mouth. 

'Be careful!" he encouraged helplessly.

"Die in a fire, Shadwell," Crowley seethed, sliding closer to Aziraphale.

He was nearing the shattering edge where Aziraphale was just clinging now. More snapped gave way and the oversized claws raked up piles of ice flakes.

"Stop, don't you move," Crowley hissed as he got closer.

The Lion began sadly whimpering and tried to grasp forward more with a paw. 

"Stop!" Crowley barked, "I know you are cold! Try and pull forward very slowly!"

The Lion began to slam its front paws down and extend it's claws, but as soon as its shoulders tensed to pull, more ice gave way. Crowley felt himself slipping forward as the ice inclined more and more around Aziraphale.

"Aziraphale!" he yelped, "You have to stop! We're both going to get pulled in!" The Lion paused but moaned louder and dug its claws deeper.

Crowley was sliding close enough to touch. He reached out and grabbed part of the mane, and began to pull. This was pointless, but Crowley couldn't think of another thing to do. Aziraphale resumed slamming his paws, and Shadwell yelled more incoherent sounds. Crowley was baring his teeth and pulling to no avail as the ice around him was giving way. Aziraphale wailed louder. "Of course I'm trying to get you out!!! " Crowley strained, "Stop whining or I'll grab you by your whiskers!"

Warlock slid his small frame across the ice with a rope end. The other end was tied to Bentley's saddle. When Shadwell saw Warlock approaching with the horse, he rushed over piping, "Good idea laddie!" He grabbed the horses bridle and held him steady as Warlock began his task. Warlock fearfully scooted closer to Crowley's back just as he saw the man get yanked into the water with the Lion.

The ice gave way under them without warning, and most of Aziraphale went under and so did most of Crowley. Aziraphale lunged back up, heavier with water than before, and resumed his struggle. Crowley's arms came up and grappled the mane. He emerged with a gasping shriek and eyes blazing. He tried to get some purchase on the ice but failed with how slick it was from the water splashing up. Grabbing the Lion's mane again he gave himself a hoist. The Lion let out an unmistakably peeved roar. 

Crowley was soaked and furious looking at Aziraphale. 

"Here!" Warlock shouted, holding up the rope as he came closer.

"Tie this around him, and we will pull him out!"

"Warlock!" Crowley sputtered as he tried to pull himself out, "STAY AWAY FROM HIS PAWS!" 

Warlock still pulled closer with the rope, trying to toss it over Aziraphale's body.

"Don't!" Crowley screamed. "You'll hurt him that way! Get back!"

"I got this!" Warlock assured him bravely, trying to fling the rope, just as Azirphale began thrashing again. Crowley was clinging to the mane, yelling again for him to stop. The massive paws slammed out and hooked Warlock's arm. Warlock wasn't so much cut as hooked and violently yanked downward. And unlike a cut, the shock was also how bluntly it hurt. Shadwell screamed more noises as he held onto the horse. Warlock couldn't even hear himself yelling out over the roaring and felt helpless and shocked at the sting of cold water he was being pulled into. That was as bad as the claws.

"STOP! STOP!" Crowley screeched into the Lion's face. "STOP NOW! YOU ARE HURTING WARLOCK AND GOING TO KILL US ALL!!!!"

Crowley raised a hand back and slapped Aziraphale across the nose.

Aziraphale immediately stopped, eyes winced shut, and began to whimper. 

Warlock felt the jab of claws loosen, and he pulled himself up against the mane. Crowley grabbed the rope end, tied a large loop in it, and held it up.

"Bite this, now!" he commanded. The Lion bit it and held it with gleaming white teeth.

"SHADWELL!" Crowley and Warlock were shouting. "Go! Go!"

"Gettup, ya infernal horse!" Shadwell was shouting, smacking Bentley. The horse pulled the rope hard, straining as the rope went as straight as an arrow. His hooves churned hard in on the ground as he was held in place. Shadwell yelled more and slapped his side. Bentley dug deeper, swaying his head low back and forth, whipping his tail. He wavered his steps side to side but struggled for a forward movement. Slowly the Lion began moving upward, slamming one paw after the other onto the ice until it's back feet managed to step up. Crowley and Warlock both emerged out of the water and slid along the ice, clinging to the mane. The group finally slid to solid ground, barely moving. Shadwell rushed forward.

"Good thinkin' boy!" he gushed as Warlock feebly propped himself up, shaking.

"Are ye hurt?!!" 

"Ohhh, not much," Warlock panted, still terrified. He felt so spent he wondered if he could stand. Or breath, each breath felt like it was being squeezed back and forth from his chest. And then he saw the blood seeping from his ripped sleeve and felt even fainter.

Crowley was breathing loudly as he raised on his hands. His hair was long ropes on either side of his face. It looked like some of the light went out of his golden eyes. His body looked ghastly thin with the wet clothes clinging to it.

"Shadwell," he panted. "We must try... to finish this... we can't go on this way." He looked down at the Lion, laying on the ground, wailing. All the anger went from Crowley's face and he looked heartbroken. He moved closer to its face and touched it, still panting hard.

"Hey, stop that," he chided as he started stroking it. "I'm sorry. I had to stop you." He gasped more for air, and gave a lopsided grin.

Leaning closer like it was a personal joke, he whispered to Aziraphale, "We're even now, right?"

The Lion let out a warmer growl as Crowley let out an ironic laugh, stroking the creature's face.

Warlock was so cold he couldn't think, and Crowley noticed. He heaved himself closer, righting himself. 

"Warlock, come here," he commanded, holding out a hand. Warlock dragged himself closer to Crowley. When he was in reach, Crowley grabbed him forcibly and pulled him close in his arms. Warlock was so cold his body wasn't even shaking, yet he felt the slow drift of warmth. Crowley just clutched him, and he didn't resist as Shadwell approached with Crowley's cloak and flung it around them.

"Thank you, Warlock," Crowley barely whispered.

For one instant Warlock remembered being younger and an adult hugging. His parents? Someone who cared for him? Hugging him and telling him they loved him.

He felt a wave of nostalgia along with the warmth, like something had been missing for years and he found it but instead of making him happy it was leaving him reflective.

Warlock was beginning to drifting off when his eyes met Aziraphale's feline eyes as was still lying on the ground, muscles occasionally twitching as his body tried to warm its self. He raised a paw for an instant and made a noise as miserable as its eyes looked, but Warlock still jumped in Crowley's grasp.

"He said he's sorry," Crowley whispered. "He didn't mean to hurt you." 

Warlock just nodded back. Aziraphale blinked and looked away.

___________________________________________________

The bells rang louder and louder.

Bentley pounded up the street, Crowley standing in the stirrups.

"No! Aziraphale! I'm coming! Why is the sky so dark and red?! Not a bind! It can't be too late!!!"

The church doors were closed as tight as a wall. He pressed Bentley up the stairs to the doors as cried out. Nothing, just the bells and the muffled sounds of voices rising and falling within.

_"I know you are in there, I won't let it stop me!"_

Checking the horse as close as he could he stabbed his longsword between the lips of where the doors met and closed his eyes.

"You can't stop me. You can't stop me. You want a goddam evil demon from hell; I'll give it to you!" The wood started creaking, the lock started groaning and straining. Crowley closed his eyes and barred is teeth. 

"HERE'S YOUR GODDAM VENGIFLUL DEMON FROM HELL, GABRIEL!" he shrieked as he focused on his glamor.

The doors slammed open with the force of the world. Rearing in the doorway was a black horse with a flaming man and eyes, a black knight with a flaming sword in the saddle. The knight's serpent eyes were nearly glowing, his teeth jagged and pointed, and ebony wings beat from his back. The horse reared as he cried out, "AZIRAPHALE!!!"

Hastur streaked past to the outside, babbling in his sibilant voice. "A cat! A big cat!! He's a cat!!!" 

Crowley heard a clamor like a barfight from within as he lost focus on his glamor and it faded like a breeze. Dagon suddenly raced by, shrieking as well. "Get the dogs! Get the goddam dogs!" Gabriel was yelling that they would be demoted if they didn't come back now. Crowley tried to focus on the scene within and the hellish sounds mixing with the bells;

Gabriel was on the ground, one sleeve shredded, and his arm was bleeding. Sandalphon had a sword out and was holding his ground infront of his Bishop, but looked petrified with fear. Michael was clutching some pieces of armour and a broadsword over to the side, looking ill, ready to keel over puking. 

Crowley's head spun at the madness, and he panicked at the white downiness on the floor, rolling like a snow drift towards him. 

_"Feathers? No.... Aziraphale's cloak...."_

The cloak had been torn into millions of tiny pieces, and the fur hood totally shredded. All this was rolling towards the gust of air with the door opening. 

Now Crowley felt ill, and tried to urge Bentley into the entrance when he felt the sensation like a furnace raking at his face and body.

_"The church! No!"_

So hot and painful, Crowley tumbled hard off the horse at the entrance. He tried to pull himself back out from the inferno, raising his head up. Then he saw it; white, huge, roaring.

 _"Crowley!_ " he heard in his mind. 

_"No...."_

_"Crowley!"_

_______________________

The two men, boy, and the Lion lay in the partially dug pit, covered in blankets.

Crowley opened his eyes from dreaming.

_"I HATE that dream."_

Warlock and Shadwell were leaning against each other under a blanket.

It took everything Crowley had to get Aziraphale warm and left him feeling so tired. And cold himself.

" _One of those rare occasions, I suppose."_

He saw the gentle press of light beginning to dawn as he glanced over at the Lion with a blanket thrown over it's back.

_"The same. Like I'm drugged. I'll move as fast as I can, so will he. But always the same."_

He held up a hand as his vision blurred, and his fingers looked translucent.

"Just... one touch...."

He tried to stir and looked back over at the Lion. No longer a full Lion, a figure becoming smaller. 

"Aziraphale," Crowley tried to call, but he could barely hear his voice.

Aziraphale stirred under the blanket, turning his face forward.

Crowley felt his heart leap to see the face as he started reaching out, calling again.

Warlock's eyes opened and he held his breath.

_"Both... of them? But, Crowley looks like he's... fading."_

Aziraphale's eyes languidly opened.

"Angel?" Crowley smiled.

Warlock held his breath as Shadwell stirred.

 _"Touch! Touch! You can do it!"_ he quietly thought.

Crowley reached out as Aziraphale leaned up, looking resolute.

The arm Crowley held out had the red bind around the wrist, and Aziraphale reached out his with the blue bind strapped around his. Aziraphale bared his teeth and began to lunge forward.

Crowley looked blissfully surrendering as his fingers began to fade. 

_"Angel, please come find me,_ " he whispered.

"NO!" Aziraphale yelled just as the Raven burst into the sky past his hand, cawing to the sunrise.

"Ack! Ack! Aziraphale!" it lamented, wheeling above.

Warlock felt hurt and he wasn't sure why as he watched the bird circle.

Aziraphale let his arm fall, and was just a man, pale and helpless in the dawning light. He clutched his blanket as he began to sob.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get the "Hammer to fall' lyrics?   
> \------  
> Aziraphale is not suicidal, he just has reached his breaking point and only thinks facing the Bishop can bring about an end.  
> _____________  
> Some of the words on the poem are smudged, it's NOT ellisped, obviously!  
> The book it's copied from is a book of Aziraphale's with short prophecies and poetry. ;)  
> \-------  
> The panic Crowley has about tying a rope around The Lion is the force pulling him out would hurt him. Warlock is a kid and doesn't understand it could break bones or strangle him. And he doesn't want anyone else near the panicked creature.  
> ________________  
> The 'We're even' remark from Crowley will be from the prequel. Aziraphale slaps Crowley over something. ;)  
> ________________  
> The flashback in this one, like all, is just an abbreviated version, it'll be embellished in the prequel.  
> THIS one, in particular, is as simple as I could make it so as to not overwhelm the piece. That's for another story.


	12. Waiting for the hammer to fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rest of the group convince Aziraphale to listen to their ideas on entering the city.  
> There's much plotting and a plan is hatched and carried out. 
> 
> \------------------
> 
> Most liberties are taken with this chapter to make everything fit.  
> I also focus solely on the characters, adventure, and humor this time.  
> No cutting to other characters or flashbacks.

Warlock thought he had seen Aziraphale angry before. 

He was a new shade of livid this morning.

Shadwell and Warlock both were seated side by side on the ground, guiltily enduring his diatribe as he angrily paced. 

"I can't believe that you fools even thought you could stop me," he scolded, puffing visibly in the frosty air. 

"Well, we had to try something!" Warlock huffed, clutching himself in the chill. "You can't do this!"

Crowley was in the tree, randomly letting out caws and barks at anyone speaking. 

"Caw!" he agreed.

Aziraphale looked at the bird angrily and resumed.

"It doesn't matter if I can or not, I have no choice but to try, and I must! "

"Caw!"

Shadwell stood up and pleaded.

"But, the words! Surely you'd....."

"I'd be convinced of these 'words'," Aziraphale snapped, leaning in Shadwell's face, "If I actually could hear them! Where is the book, hmmm? Shadwell?"

Shadwell grumbled. "I... dinnno.... it seems to be...."

"Caw!"

"He said it was from a book of yours!" Warlock yelled, also standing. 

"A poem book or something!" 

Aziraphale looked sharp. 

"Well, maybe if any of you could tell me the words?" Aziraphale challenged.

Warlock tried to dredge up what he could remember.

"Uhh, something about feathers... and, uh, the autumn, and...."

"Caw!"

Aziraphale turned and looked at the Raven in the tree.

"Crowley," he addressed, "Did the words tell you anything?"

Everyone was staring at the bird, who went silent and gave his wings a few flips and started pecking on the branch.

"Crowley, please?" Warlock begged. "Do you remember the words? Did you think it meant something? Remember? The feathers falling? The Fall? Something about two hearts?"

There were golden sparkles deep in Crowley's eyes as he peered at the faces.

"Oi?" he inquired.

Warlock exhaled loudly. 

"C'mon!! The book?! You said it was his-" Warlock flung his arms at Aziraphale, "- and you copied it from another book?! Where'd you leave it?"

"Caw?"

Warlock was sensing a disquieting sensation.  _ Had Crowley forgotten and lost the book? Did he not want to co-operate and just being obstinate? Was he losing his human senses? _

Aziraphale scoffed. "There is no use trying to construct an answer out of fantasies, Warlock."

"It's not a fantasy!" Warlock shouted, spinning to face the Knight.

He balled his fists to his side and puffed himself as tall as he could.

"It's not! We can make it happen!"

"Jest' lissin' to reason!" Shadwell implored fruitlessly.

"Caw!" Crowley barked again.

Shadwell stoically stood beside them as they faced off.

Aziraphale glared at Crowley, barely glanced at Shadwell, before facing Warlock.

"Warlock," he strained condescendingly, "Your commitment is splendid, but I am sorry to disappoint you; This isn't a Fairy Tale, and there's no magic spell or words to end it. Now, move out of my way, you fools and let me end this."

Warlock raged, not budging a step.

"Well, we should try! I won't let you!" 

Aziraphale pushed past him, moving towards Bentley.

Warlock had been so rigid where he was persisting that he didn't anticipate Aziraphale pushing by, and staggered over to the ground.

He yelped when he landed, not from the impact but from the sudden pain in his injured arm.

Aziraphale couldn't stop himself from glimpsing back with a bothered glance. He entirely spun around, seeing Warlock on the ground and noticing his arm, wrapped in blood-stained bandages.

"Warlock?" he whispered. "Your arm...? How... did..."

"It 'appened last night," Shadwell grunted tersely like he was dishing out a clue to a puzzle.

Warlock remained fallen and silent. 

Aziraphale looked wholly frightened, unblinking, trying to open his mouth to speak. It was clear a memory was being rekindled in the Knight's mind.

"It... wasn't....don't tell me..." he was literally begging, knowing the certainty. " I didn't do it... did..."

"You  ** did ** !" Crowley confirmed, beating his wings.

As instant as a whip lashing, the words slashed straight into Aziraphale. The upper part of his body stooped down as he brought a gloved hand up to his mouth and covered it. Tears welled from his eyes, and he closed them tightly.

Shadwell didn't change his austere appearance. Warlock didn't move either and felt flustered.

After a few bewailings, Aziraphale pulled himself together sheepishly, turning his now reddened eyes to the others.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I would never have..."

"It's alright," Warlock offered, hoping to stop him from crying to quell the flooding feeling he was having to cry as well. "It was an accident and..."

"It's NOT alright," Aziraphale corrected as he approached and offered a had to Warlock. "It's unforgivable."

"True!" Crowley chimed. 

" 'Specially since he helped save your life," Shadwell curtly added.

Aziraphale was letting out shuddering breathes as he helped Warlock up.

Warlock wasn't prepared when Aziraphale got down on a knee and embraced him hard. He was awash again with the strange feelings he had with Crowley just before. The urge to cry was becoming overwhelming, but his arms were pinned, so trying to brush the tears away was futile. 

"Sorry, Warlock," he whispered hoarsely. 

"Better," Crowley agreed as Aziraphale stood up.

Warlock quickly wiped away his tears and tried to look natural.

"Warlock is cryyying!" Crowley hooted in a sing-songy voice.

Aziraphale shifted a peeved glance at the Raven. 

"Crowley, that's rude. Let him. I'm crying too."

"You always do," Crowley replied.

"I. Do. Not." Aziraphale hissed back.

"All the time. "

"Like you never did!" Aziraphale insisted. 

"I don't cry," the Raven answered.

Warlock snickered at the banter. 

"So, " Shadwell began, "Mebbe we should all figger' a way to sneak our sorry souls inta' Tadfield once and fer all?"

Aziraphale looked at Warlock's confident face.

"Fine, " he relinquished with a sigh. "Let's talk."

______________________________________

"Nay, that wouldn't work," Shadwell muttered, pacing past Warlock and Aziraphale seated on the ground. Aziraphale had traced the outline of the city walls on the ground and was staring hard at it while holding his teacup out for Crowley.

Warlock sat crossed legged, making exaggerated slurping noises but not actually drinking his, occupied at the outlines in the dirt. Shadwell had gulped down more than one filling of tea and seemed refueled with moral vehemence.

"The gate is here, the river opening here," Aziraphale said, pointing.

"There are other lower points a person could scale and enter, but that's far too dangerous. And there are some inner walls once pass the main wall. Shorter, but no easy task.

Crowley hopped towards the sketch, humming, and began staring at the plan.

"Hhhmm, fly" he suggested.

"Yeah, great idea," Warlock huffed sarcastically, chucking the contents of his cup over his shoulder. "We can all fly like you. Well, maybe Crowley could fly in now and we could, like, come in afterwards?"

"No, I'd be spotted," Aziraphale sighed. "I know most of the guards posted by Gabriel may be newer, but no doubt someone would recognize me. "

"Well, wear a disguise!" Warlock offered.

Aziraphale shook his head. "I was never much of one for trying to be someone else." He looked directly at Crowley. "He was always better than I."

"Well, then, have Crowley put on a disguise!" Warlock gushed. "We could, like, chop his hair really short like mine and no one would..."

** "NO!! ** " shouted both Crowley and Aziraphale in unison.

Warlock clamped his mouth shut in surprise at tandem irritation in their voices.

Aziraphale held out a hand as Crowley jumped on muttering "No! No!"

"Seesh, it grows back! It's just hair!" Warlock criticized screwing his features up. "You'd do anything to get back in and..."

"NO!" Crowley shrieked, stretching out his neck, raising every feather, and flapping his wings.

Aziraphale pulled the bird closer, almost hugging it.

"Calm down, dear," he purred, "Don't let him upset you. You don't have to cut your lovely hair."

The Raven started to make a throaty purr in response.

"Oy," Shadwell groaned, putting a hand to his face and swaying his head.

"Yeah, oy!" Warlock mockingly agreed, imitating Shadwell's frustration by waggling his head.

"Oh, stop it!" Aziraphale snorted, still stroking Crowley's head. "He likes his hair long!"

"It appears someon' else does as well," Shadwell ridiculed. 

"It IS really long," Warlock remarked sincerely. "Like, down past his shoulders. And really red too. He even braids it and ties it up sometimes."

Aziraphale breathed to himself as he forced to continue speaking but whimpered, "Back to the subject on hand...."

"I'm on your hand," Crowley injected matter of factly.

Warlock started laughing as did Crowley.

Aziraphale looked confused, and Shadwell growled before stomping around, throwing out more ideas.

"Fine! We make a cage on the wagon fer the lion and sez we are a circus coming in! "

"Idiotic," Crowley weighed in.

Aziraphale pinched his mouth up and shook his head. 

"I think word of a white lion coming through the gate would reach Gabrielle's ears faster than an arrow shot to his tower."

"We could disguise you when you are a lion!" Warlock surged. 

"What?!" Crowley and Aziraphale spat.

"You know! Like, stain your fur another color! Say you are a dancing bear or something!"

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. 

"Or, chop off your mane and put a saddle on your back and say you are a horse!" 

Warlock was enthralled with his idea, holding his hands up in excitement, scanning the faces for agreement.

There was dead silence as the party stared at Warlock. 

"Try harder," Crowley chided

"Well, it's a good idea!" Warlock grumbled to himself, turning away and scowling.

"I'd like to see you put ah' saddle on his gaddam back," Shadwell ridiculed, pacing more with his arms behind him. 

Crowley's head feathers heckled up, and he started coughing with manic laughter.

Aziraphale deftly reached his free hand up, clamped Crowley's beak shut. Crowley was trying to pull it loose as Aziraphale resumed.

"No, let's be realistic here; I can't go in now for fear of recognition. We ALL have a problem of being looked for. No doubt Gabe has an alert out for a boy thief and myself. And Crowley. Shadwell may be recognized but is the least likely. I can't figure a combination of who and how we can make this work."

"Someone could hide in the wagon!" Warlock tried.

"Good idear, " Shadwell said, "But they will prolly' beh doing some searchin'. Can't lock ya in a trunk, sadly."

"Hmmm, under the wagon!" Warlock rushed. "I could... hold onto the bottom! And Aziraphale can follow as the Lion under it!" 

"Better idea," Aziraphale complimented. "But too open, they will stop us and probably search. But a better idea, for certain."

"MmmMmmMm," Crowley was protesting through his closed beak.

Aziraphale released it and gasped. "Sorry dear!"

Crowley hopped off his hand and started waddling around the sketch on the ground.

"Enter here," he said, pecking at a spot.

"The river?" Warlock groaned. 

"Yeah' did say you escaped that way, dinnit ya?" Shadwell asked.

"Yeah, but...."

"And you could get back into the church," Aziraphale added, "And potentially open it from the inside the next day."

"It's not THAT easy, " Warlock slowly pieced together. "Parts are one way streets, yanno? I think I could get back in, it might take some crawling around other places. And it still doesn't answer how you will get in."

"Or Crowley," Shadwell appended. 

Everyone looked at Crowley on the ground.

The Raven tipped his head a little and blinked.

"Glamour."

"What? " Warlock questioned, wrinkling his nose.

"Glamour," Crowley repeated.

"Of course!" Aziraphale beamed. "He can use a glamour!"

"What's that?" Warlock inquired. 

"A spell," Shadwell informed gravely. "Like a mask or cover."

"You mean he can change his appearance?!" Warlock croaked.

"After a fashion," Aziraphale informed. "There are rules and limitations. Simple glamours can make you look like anything, but only for a few seconds. They're more like tricks to amuse or intimidate. Real glamours take work and have rules. One rule of these is the person you are trying to deceive already must want to see what you want them to see..."

Warlock was confused, and it showed.

Aziraphale tried again.

"If I were, say, trying to convince you I was... Shadwell, you couldn't know it was me when we first met. Your mind must already  _ think _ I'm Shadwell. Does that make sense?

"Sorta," Warlock muttered. 

"They can be hard spells to hold, but," Aziraphale suddenly sounded grave, "Very effective at tricking people for brief moments. Or you can have another do it for you, but often at a steep price that principally involves your life."

Shadwell turned from the group and paced away, muttering. 

"And," Aziraphale added, "Some people are born with other, masks, shall we say, they can move to and from. Often similar to themselves, but different. Different enough to seem like other people."

Warlock re-wrinkled up his nose. "So, like.... Crowley can like... change his hair color or face maybe? Or his eyes?"

"All of me," Crowley corrected.

Shadwell puffed as he paced back.

"Clever," he chided, "But gabriel is no doubt looking harder than a few changes and is no fool."

Aziraphale looked at Crowley.

"Ladycrowe?" he asked, raising his brows.

The Raven blinked back, scratched rapidly behind one of his eyes with a clawed foot, flipped his wings, and generally pretended to be ignoring the conversation.

"Lady-crowe?" Aziraphale tried again, crossing his arms. There was a small mention of bemusement in his tone, clearly an intimate joke. 

Crowley let out an audible growl.

"Bastard!"

"You have a single better idea?" Aziraphale chided breezily.

The two stared at each other, which made for the oddest glaring competition Warlock had ever seen in his life.

"Fine, " Crowley relinquished, pacing around. 

"What?" Warlock asked with a nervous laugh. "What did you just ask Ladycrowe?"

Aziraphale smiled as Crowley hopped upon his shoulder.

"Crowley can change his form and glamour to mask his eyes."

"Great! " Warlock sighed with relief, "But I don't get it; what is he gonna change to? Can I see it?"

Crowley started cackling. Aziraphale looked bashful.

"Changing features might not be enough. But changing gender might."

Shadwell inhaled hard. 

"Ye can't do that!" he wheezed. "It's not possible!"

Aziraphale looked coy. "Crowley can."

"WHAT?" Warlock screeched, clutching himself.

Shadwell was still in denial. "But... it's.. ye jest.... can't!"

"I can," Crowley confirmed.

"Saints protect us!" the former Brother swore, crossing himself.

"Well, pray and protect your soul all you need to, Shadwell," Aziraphale gleefully added. "You are driving the cart in tonight with Crowley."

Warlock was stunned. "No. No way, he can't change into a girl. You just... people can't do that!"

"He's always himself; it's just a form he can take," Aziraphale corrected. "I admit," he added with a frank shrug, " I was just as shocked as you were the first time he did it to me."

"He was," Crowley confirmed.

Shadwell was letting out animal noises and holding his head.

Warlock was wide-eyed and slack-jawed.

_ "No way. No way. And he touched me. Eeew, gods. Well, maybe he is the Lady after all..." _

"Alright!" Shadwell barked. "Now are we puttin' a dress on the Lion, or on the boy to sneak them in as well?!"

"Warlock," Crowley swiftly settled on.

"No, Warlock has to sneak in himself," Aziraphale settled on firmly.

He glanced over at Warlock, not with a demanding face , but reliance.

"I am confident he can," he championed. "Perhaps... you could open the gate the next morning? Or find me after daybreak..."

"No, too complicated thar," Shadwell cut off. "Ye gonna have to sneak yer furry hide in. Probably with the lad."

Aziraphale frowned. Everyone went silent, not able to reason anything else.

"I mean, Lions are sneaky, right?" Warlock said. "I could try. I'd just have to sneak you to whatever stable you were heading to."

Crowley let out a caw. Shadwell breathed noisily and waited for an argument. Aziraphale was obviously trying to think of something but empty for ideas.

"And then," Shadwell finished. "Ye'd hide near the church and let us in tomorrow?"

"I suppose," Warlock agreed, feeling every other option fading with the remaining light of the day.

Aziraphale grimaced but resigned to the plan as well as he looked at Crowley. 

"Agree, Ladycrowe?"

"Yeah."

____________________________________

The wagon rolled towards the torch lit gate. 

Bentley was tied behind it, plodding along. The trunks and crates in the back were lashed down tight. 

Shadwell cursed at Dick for stopping and starting with lurches. 

The last time Shadwell had passed under this threshold was identically on this wagon driving this damn mule, but he was heading the opposite way. 

"Heh, all four us lef' this damn town and now all havin' to come back like this. God gimme strength."

He focused on the reins as they halted at the drawbridge. As he assumed correctly, all traffic was being paused at least questioned by guards. " _ As I feared, Gabe is no idiot, and doesn't want the wrong 'ins gettin' in." _

As the wagon slowly crawled closer, a guard finally approached him and squinted.

"Good evening, Brother," he addressed with no civility. 

'" ' Evnin', my son," Shadwell hailed back. "Is thar enny' problems? What's the fuss aboot?"

The guard scanned over the wagon bed and gestured for another to join.

"Just a check at the order of the Bishop. Word of thieves and other strange intruders recently, he doesn't want any chances."

The men breezed through the back of the wagon but didn't seem much alarmed by the essential looking gear. They stooped and checked under the carriage as Shadwell internally relaxed that Warlock wasn't hiding there.

"Well, twoodit' be proper for a Brother of the cloth ta' be hidin' that sorts, would it?" Shadwell tried to sound airy. "Jest a'heading for rest before the most sacred and honorable day a'morrow."

The first Guard ambled back and looked Shadwell in the face. Shadwell tried to remain pleasant as the Guard shifted his staring to the black hooded passenger beside him.

"And, uhm, what's this? Another brother who took a vow of silence or just a little shy?"

The Guard reached up and roughly yanked back the hood.

Earthy brown hair waved astray as a pale feminine turned away, eyes closed. 

Shadwell looked offended as he answered, "Good Sister Davina, my lad. Sister of the Chattering Order, ef' you will, accompanyin' myself to the ceremony tomorrow."

The Guard pulled back as the Sister bashfully opened her large dark eyes to give him an askance frown. 

Brother Shadwell coughed loudly.

"Eehh, wait until word gets to Gabriel of one of the trusted knights of the keep, pilferin' around with one of the most virtuous ladies of the Order..."

"Please, just pass," the Guard rushed.

Sister Davina turned her head away indignantly.

"May the Saints forgive you," she puffed. 

"Yes, " Shadwell chided as he slapped Dick with the reins. "Do pray fer yer wanton soul that ye' almost befouled a poor Sister of the Order." 

The other Guards were howling with laughter at their embarrassed compatriot. 

The wagon clattered away and headed towards one of the open dark streets.

Crowley whipped up his hood, clutched himself tightly, and wheezed.

Shadwell continued to slap the mule but glanced sideways as they drifted to a open yard.

"Eh ya allrit?" he whispered.

"Stupid question," hissed Crowley, his voice much deeper.

"That was a hard act, and I can barely do it with all the pressure. He was looking hard for a lie, thank whomever he was looking very hard in all the wrong places."

"Well, you did fine," Shadwell offered, hoping Crowley would calm down.

Crowley was just a bent over cloth veil in the corner of Shadwell's eyes. After a moment, he whispered, "Thanks. You did too."

The shadow of the church fell over them, and Crowley dared to glance up. Shadwell heard him breathing roughly and saw his eyes fading to tawny.

"Stay calm, will ye?" he urged. "We'll be at the stable soon..."

"Just...keep.... going," Crowley was gasping. "It.... hurts..."

Shadwell looked over and realized Crowley wasn't just scared. He was in some form of physical pain as well. He was back to looking like himself, clutching the wagon seat, gasping, and sweating.

" _ The church. The Church, he's too close."  _

As the passed the looming form, Crowley looked like a man dying from inside, and all he could do was grip himself and gasp.

As soon as the Church was behind them and the wagon rumbled down a farther street, Crowley audibly was recuperating as his breathing became normal.

"Almost to tha' stables," Shadwell soothed.

Crowley was silent.

Crowley was wrapped as feminine as he could muster with no effort in his cloak as he waited on the wagon seat. Shadwell reemerged from haggling with the Innkeeper and led Dick and the wagon with the horse tied to it to their designated stable. 

Crowley slid down and led Bentley in as Shadwell unhitched Dick inside the stable. He snapped on several lanterns before pacing to the door to peer out. Shadwell was fussing with the trunks and crates in the back of the wagon.

Crowley overheard the flow of people ebbing to and fro.

" _ Busy, active. Tomorrow Gabriel gets his crown. Huh. I still feel caged. I'm back here, and the whole grave cage of this city wants to hold me and crush me as long as he's alive. Maybe it's what he wants, us to come slinking back..." _

"Waz' that?" Shadwell whispered as he approached.

Crowley sighed, still peering around the edge of the door.

"Just... waiting for the hammer to fall."

"Ay," Shadwell understood. "I hev'nt the foggest idear how ta get ya into the church tomorrow."

Crowley was still quiet, occupied with his spying.

He held back from his usual sarcastic response. He had no energy to bandy about some fairy-tale hope. 

Another wagon with men shouting directions and orders went by.

"Hmm, not good, " Crowley hissed back at Shadwell.

"Wazzat?" Shadwell whispered back.

"Something is up. Sounds like people are searching about."

"Diya think....."

"What else could it be?" Crowley ridiculed, looking back at the old man with annoyance.

"Should we... go out in' find 'em?"

Crowley sighed. 

"No. Too close to the church for me. We'll just..."

He closed the door but held a hand against it, not moving his position.

"Wait."

Shadwell knew there was nothing more he could say or do and went over to tend to Dick.

_ "Dammit, you idiots. Don't do anything stupid, please." _

____________________________________

The weight on Warlock's mind was almost becoming physical as he peeled away from the wagon in the dark.

He was back in Tadfield and had to reverse a task that he wasn't even sure how he had achieved before. 

He had to sneak back into the church tower and, in the morning, sneak in to make sure the doors were opened for Aziraphale.

As he argued before, the path going back wouldn't and couldn't be identical, and he knew that. But he had spent so many years of his youth in the tunnels, sewers, and channels. He was confident he could find a way, even if it took time. Warlock even knew there had to be a way under the dungeon directly to the church as well. 

On top of all this, he dreaded the cold waters he'd have to swim through multiple times. At least there wasn't actual ice, but that didn't make them any warmer. 

But adding to this was sneaking in a gigantic white lion in as well. There was absolutely no way he could be seen with the wagon or going through the main gate. 

It was clear he'd have to follow Warlock through part of the river and then find a path to the stables, which were on the literal other side of the town. Issues were evident that even if they got through the river close to the church, Aziraphale would have as much lurking as Warlock did. Of course, the Knight was confident he could manage; Lions were naturally good at stalking, and he knew the central part of his hometown city.

To add to the burden, Warlock was feeling queer at the sight of Crowley with his glamour. Once the sun set and they had the chance to convince Crowley of their plan (which they had to remind him he came up with the glamour part), he hesitantly consented to it.

Over the course of a few concentrating seconds, Crowley's appearance subtly exchanged. His hair remained long but became a natural brown shade. His features softened, and his eyes became doe-like and brown. Warlock knew he had mistaken Crowley for a girl twice already, but glancing at his form and listening to his fair voice, his mind gave up.

"What do you think?" Crowley sweetly asked Shadwell and Warlock after the change, batting his eyes and clasping his hands together coyly. Aziraphale was in Lion form, gazing adoringly up at Crowley with a soft simper. 

_ "Oh jeez! How can his voice be like a girl now, but sound the same?!" _

Shadwell huffed to the wagon, uttering something about the Devil and Witchcraft while crossing himself. Warlock held his own hand and looked around nervously.

"Well, uhh, I guess when you... uh, said you were whatever ever Aziraphale wanted to you be you were that.... uhhh, I get what you mean?" Warlock offered, wringing his hands. 

Crowley flipped his hands on to his hips with a seductive smirk, and Warlock felt queasy looking at his form.

_ "He's actually... kind of pretty. Oh man, too weird." _

"But, you have me fooled!" he added with enthusiasm. "I mean, you look... really, girly!"

"Girly?" Crowley cajoled musically, clearly relishing having Warlock on the spot.

"Uhhhm, " Warlock was still trying to look everywhere else while clutching his hands. 

"Like, really pretty?" He owned with the timid grin.

Crowley clasped his hands together as he knelt at Warlock and embraced him hard.

"Oh thank you, you sweet young boy!" he welled.

**_ "OH GOD, THIS IS WEIRD!!!!"  _ **

Warlock was rigid as the church steeple and felt oddly stirred. 

Shadwell was shouting at them to get along with everything.

Crowley pulled away, and Warlock was still made of stone but blushing deeply.

"Thanks," he squeaked.

Crowley grinned back and winked. "You are handling this better than he-" Crowley flipped a hand at the calmly watching Lion, "-Did the first time I did this. If we get out of this and you actually grow up, I'll tell you about it one day."

______________

The wagon was approaching and halted near the gate along with another cluster being searched and permitted entry.

Warlock was on all fours, crawling through the dead grass. He peered back to see the giant white creature doing the same right behind him. He was stunned how silent he was for his size. Each paw would gently cup up and land noiselessly. His long body was so low he almost drug his stomach on the ground. His fierce eyes strove every fingerbreadth of the dark, back and forth, glowing with focus. 

They made it to the edge of the river, and Warlock paused with a mild groan. He had enough trouble trying to be near the animal that maimed him last night, now going back into the cold dark water was already giving him memories of the ice incident.

"Gotta go in, I guess," he whispered.

Aziraphale hummed in response. Warlock was gingerly forcing himself into the water, trying not to yelp.

_ "Oh lord, I get it. It's all tests and stuff. But why is this so cold?" _

The Lion slid quietly into the water, extending it's chin up and starting to paddle after Warlock. 

Warlock drifted forward, seizing up when we heard hoofbeats or voices but not stopping. He was concentrating on gliding along, but the cold was making it harder and harder to think straight. They crossed under the bridge wherevhe had stolen the coins and knife at before. A band of wagons and horses thundered over. Warlock paused, looking up at the motion of horseshoes and orange torchlight slicing through the boards. The chaos above passed.

He pushed onward, closer and closer to the grated opening in the first stone outer-wall. The grate here was open, but the water was high enough Warlock had to duck under to the other side. He came up gasping and looked around for Aziraphale. Instantly the feline head emerged with no fuss, blinked, and waited for Warlock to continue. 

"So far, so good," whispered Warlock. "Another place like that, over here, keep following."

They drifted to the next screen grate.

To his dismay, this one was in place. 

" _ Oh damn, this was replaced or something," _ though Warlock as he grabbed at the metal lattice. 

The Lion drifted up behind him and made a worried noise that was clearly asking.

_ "What? What is wrong?" _

"The grate!" Warlock whispered, holding on to it and trying to shake it. "They probably wised up to how I got out!"

The Lion resumed, grumbling.

_ "Oh dear..." _

A band of men on horses passed on the nearby bridge outside, and Warlock held still. They were unseen, but Warlock knew he couldn't linger, even if there were some structures between them.

"Uhhmm, follow me," Warlock said, "Over this way is a short wall. If we can get over that and over some of these rooves, I think I know a way past the prison yard."

Warlock paddled through the moat waters and moved to the bank lined with some small stone hued ramparts.

His whole body slogged against the return of gravity, and the aching chill as he clambered up the bank. Aziraphale padded up beside him, dripping a cascade of water. They were under the main wall, now they had to make it over the secondary walls into the town. Warlock had done this before, sprinting and vaulting over the shorter wall to rooftops 

But the other times were brighter and warmer, and he hadn't been frigidly soaked. Aziraphale shook off, and Warlock stumbled closer, looking for a place to get purchase and not been seen.

He glanced back at the Lion, watching with inquisitive eyes.

"We are gonna have to get over this short wall," Warlock explained. "Once we do that, we might have to hop over some roof tops."

The Lion sat down and seemed to nod.

_ "I understand." _

"We have to get to the prison yard area is," Warlock whispered. "You know? Near the dungeon. There's a part of the river I can get back into to get to the Chruch tower."

_ "I see." _

"If you wanna get to the stable on the other end of town," Warlock continued, "You might need my help sneaking in. There's a way through one of the stable yards. "

The Lion was grumbling more and moved his feet uneasily.

"Don't be nervous," Warlock scolded. "I've done it before." Warlock was crouched down, rubbing his arms, and gave a feeble grin as his teeth started to chatter.

The Lion blinked and hummed more.

Warlock didn't understand Aziraphale was upset that he was risking taking Warlock farther from the church and having to risk being exposed even more. But there was no way he could say this and accepted that that was what had to be done. He stood up and bumped his head against Warlock.

Warlock was still traumatized by the accidental mauling before but managed not to gasp too loudly. "Just.... calm down. Stop. Don't be scared," he hissed. The Lion still leaned against him and made more noises. 

"Sheesh, c'mon," Warlock muttered as he crept towards the short wall and began looking for outcrops. He unwound his arms from rubbing and grasped at the rock face before him. He began hoisting himself up and trying to lever with his legs.

The sloggy feeling of wet clothes and chilled limbs made it difficult, along with a very sore arm. Warlock strained and grunted up farther when he heard rattling beside him. He turned his head, just catching the sight of the Lion vaulting upwards. Claws clutching against the stones and muscles rippling, Aziraphale bounded up the wall, springing up and over. 

"Show off!" Warlock hissed, grabbing for another outcrop.

"Some of us... ugh, don't have... claws...."

There was shouting and a strobe of passing torchlight, which seized Warlock in panic. He lost grip with one hand, and his feet gave out. He clutched at the stone surface, but already gravity won the battle, and he was left with scraped palms and a sore rear.

He rolled up, winded and aching, trying to press against the wall while crouching in panic, but the scare was gone already. Just passing through.

Warlock felt his body grasped in a frenzy and tried to steady his breathing when he heard a whimper above. Looking straight up, he saw blue eyes and the shaggy mane framing the worried face.

_ "What's wrong, Warlock?" _

Warlock shook his head worriedly and loudly whispered.

"I can't. My arm hurts too much, and I'm too cold. Just, can you get to the stable? I'll get in the church, I promise, I just gotta warm up."

Another round of soldiers and torchlight passed, and Warlock felt like sobbing in terror. He was exposed, scared, and his mind felt like it was unspooling. _ "Don't let me go back to the dungeon tonight, please Lord." _

He yelped in shock when Aziraphale landed in front of him. Like any cat would, on his front feet with woosh. He turned to face Warlock with a swirl of his body and began butting him with his forehead.

_ "Up. Up. C'mon. I won't leave you." _

"Aziraphale, please, You get going," Warlock fizzed, trying to push back. "Crowley is gonna be so upset if you don't show up soon."

The Lion backed, and Warlock knew the expression it was giving him; rather, cross. How the velvety forehead and brows knotted together over the sparkling blue eyes, and the nose wrinkled up. It was unmistakable what Aziraphale was saying. 

_ "No, you get up. Now." _

Warlock pouted. "I'll get up when I can. I'm too cold. I can't move fast enough."

Without warning, the Lion got up, paced back and forth a little before re-facing Warlock. He laid down on his stomach flat and growled, not removing his gaze.

Warlock snorted. "Yeah, well, you can risk being seen here, or you can go..."

Aziraphale cut him off with more noises and slapped a paw up once. Warlock tightened his arms, still sitting against the wall.

"I don't have claws, so give me a break."

The Lion, still looking at him, rolled on his side. The stare seemed unusually annoyed. 

"Yeah, cute," Warlock huffed.

Aziraphale breathed loudly and rolled entirely over once, flopping on his other side. His eyes never stopped staring at Warlock.

"Aziraphale, please," Warlock sighed, "Just go and stop being a baby. I'll be fine." 

The Lion was glaring like he couldn't believe what Warlock was telling him.

Aziraphale stood abruptly and lunged at Warlock's side and rammed it hard enough to topple him.

"Ow! What's the big idea? You gonna drag me?" Warlock instantly regretted that because the Lion grappled his clothes with his teeth and began tugging. "Stop!" shrieked Warlock. 

Aziraphale immediately backed off again and flattened on the ground. His stare was so intense as he tipped his majestic head to the side.

_ "WARLOCK..." _

It dawned on Warlock Aziraphale was desperately trying to tell him something else.

"Wait, what are you trying to tell me?" Warlock questioned slowly.

_ "Warlock, would you PLEASE take a novel guess what I'm trying to say?." _

Aziraphale lashed his tail back and forth and didn't change his appearance but flattened his head on the ground, still maintaining eye contact.

_ "He bumped me. He rolled over on his back..." _ Warlock was wishing Crowley was there to explain.

_ "Warlock, do try and guess. We don't have all night for charades." _

It dawned on Warlock then. 

"You.... want me to... ride you over the wall?" he guessed.

The Lion sprang up, bumped Warlock hard again with a purr, and then flopped back down. The glimmering of the eyes and excited body posture confirmed it.

_ "Exactly!"  _

"But, but...how?" Warlock stammered.

Aziraphale looked over his shoulder and growled something.

_ "Good god lad, how hard could it be?" _

"But," Warlock protested as he stood, "I... might fall off and... I don't wanna hurt your hair..."

Aziraphale turned with a full snarl on his face and snapped. 

_ "WE DON'T HAVE ANY TIME, WARLOCK. On now, please." _

The sound of more horses passing made Warlock's body move faster than his mind wanted to as he straddled the Lion. Not as wide as a horse, but still large and immensely furrier. He clamped onto the mane as he pressed his body down hard. The best solution he could find with his legs was locking one foot over the other behind himself.

"Ready," Warlock whispered. As Aziraphale stood, Warlock felt he had to work hard to not slip off the smooth muscled fur. The challenged mounted as they slinked to the wall, and Warlock felt the body poising to rear up. He clutched the mane the had couldn't see beyond. The body under him yanked forward, and the only thing Warlock felt literally was tethering him down was his fists holding fast. The Lion's back bumped under him a few times as it grappled and heaved up the rock side. Just as Aziraphale peaked at the top was when he slowed, and the movement became arrested. Warlock peered sidways to see the saber length claws grappling with all their power and the front arms spraining. Warlock clutched tight but knew Aziraphale was losing momentum on the zenith and straining from the weight pulling back.

"C'mon," urged Warlock. "You can do it!"

The Lion's teeth were bared, and his eyes closed as he abruptly hefted and crested the top. Not losing the initiative, Aziraphale bounded down the nearest rooftop, scanned quickly, and bounded to the next. 

After a few more disorienting jolts, Warlock was dizzy but shocked to find they were back on the ground in one of the enclosed courtyards. He rolled off the Lion's back as it spun to face him, panting slightly. 

"Great job!" Warlock gushed, standing up.

Aziraphale extended his whiskered face right up to Warlocks with half-closed eyes and an unmistakably smug smile. 

_ "Thank you, Warlock. See? No need to doubt me. I know what I am capable of." _

Warlock grinned and ruffled the fur on the top of his head.

"Okay! Now, follow me!"

Warlock resumed crouching as they circled the back of the Guard's stable. 

"Dungeon is that way," Warlock whispered, pointing to the side. "I can go through the tunnels right back under the church. But first, I have to get you past this part of the stable." They circled quietly through the outside of the various quarters in drains and alleyways. All Warlock's familiar haunts and hiding places. 

The general activity around them died off until they were forced near a torch-lit yard or street, which they passed with care and speed.

Warlock watched the small yard near the stable and hadn't seen anyone. There were enough torches about to light the paths, and Warlock was growing more and more confident with their stealthing.

"See across this yard?" He whispered back. "There's a wooden chute I can open and send you to the other side." Aziraphale was crouched but blinked.

"Then, you can make it the rest of the way, I'm sure."

Aziraphale blinked rapidly.

"I'll go first," Warlock assured him. "When I get to the other side, you come after me."

Aziraphale started growling and confused Warlock.

"I know what I'm doing. Just wait a few minutes and then follow," Warlock assured him. He raised himself and little and started to sprint. Unexpectedly he was winded again and pulled down. Terror washed over Warlock when he realized Aziraphale and grappled him and was pressing him down. 

Warlock started to protest when he heard a familiar voice yelling. 

"Hey! Who the hell is out at this time?"

Dagon stepped into sight, and Warlock froze. 

His mouth silently went open. 

_ "Oh jeez! I didn't know they were there, and it's the last person I need to run into!" _

He glanced at Aziraphale, still pinning him down. His brows were knotted into a murderous rage, and his oversized teeth were bared. But he didn't move.

Dagon scoped around and called for another guard. 

Warlock couldn't move and didn't want to move but began fretting again. Just at that instant Aziraphale let our a short growl and released his grip, and sped forward. Warlock was blind in fear, and he pulled as far back as he could.

"No! Don't attack anyone! NO!"

But to his shock, the Lion sped behind Dagon and the other solider into the stable door.

_ "What the heck?!" _

Warlock was reeling as if he had just jumped off a tower just as he heard a horse neighing nearby. Then another.

Dagon spun in the yard, looking fierce and perplexed. 

"What the bloody hell has the horses upset?!"

Several soliders pushed into the stable, and eventually Dagon followed. Warlock heard more panicked neighing and roiling from the animals within, soon followed by shouting. 

"Oh god, no, what are you doing in there?"

The answer came as Aziraphale slunk out of the doorway, glanced in Warlocks direction, and growled where he crouched.

_ "Hurry! Follow me!" _

Warlock sprinted up to the waiting creature and vaulted on his back.

All Aziraphale needed was several large bounds before they were back in the darkness near the hewn-pole corral wall. 

Warlock slid off. "Great work!" he complimented, patting the mane. "If you hop over this wall, the stables are nearby!" The Lion sat and was staring at Warlock.

"I can sneak to the church and open it from the inside tomorrow as I promised!" Warlock was reassuring him. 

The Lion made no noise, but the eyes looked troubled.

Warlock tried to shrug it off.

"Hey, c'mon," he pushed, "Crowley is probably worried to piece for you. " Aziraphale blinked.

"Don't worry, I know I can do it and I promise not to get caught."

Warlock grinned and hoped Aziraphale would spring into action. The Lion blinked hard again.

_ "Oh sheesh, can Lions cry?!" _

__ The Lion stood and reached around, embracing Warlock's body hard. It made no comforting noise. Just contact. Warlock rubbed the mane back, also feeling a stab of melancholy. 

"Hey, c'mon," he urged. "Maybe you won't be a Lion tomorrow. Maybe you can... stay up late, talking with Crowley? I'm sure you guys have a lot ya wanna talk about if this works out."

The Lion blearily looked Warlock in the face, and Warlock felt affected to his core staring back, knowing what Aziraphale was thinking.

_ "I'd like nothing more than that. Thank you."  _ Aziraphale began moving away but glanced back one more time with a purr.

"Thank you and farewell, Warlock. Until tomorrow."

In a flash, he had vaulted over the wall and was gone.

Warlock was alone again.

______________________________________

Crowley snapped his fingers against the dark again.

And again.

After several long hours, he felt his body collapse with relief as the white ghost of an animal crept to the door he held open.

It vaulted in, and Crowley slammed the door shut.

Aziraphale tackled Crowley hard enough that Crowley just let himself crumple under the weight. Shadwell came to find the white Lion welcoming Crowley hard on the ground as he squeezed back.

"Where were you?!" Crowley scolded from under the fur.

The Lion pulled off and began growling furiously.

Crowley listened, still on the floor, looking bothered. 

"What? What izzit?" Shadwell probed.

"They had trouble," Crowley replied.

The Lion continued.

"Hhhmmm," Crowley added, "It's easy to assume Gabriel has the city on a lockdown, more places are being cut off."

Aziraphale rumbled some more and Crowley smiled.

"Oh, I should have told him he could ride you."

"What?!" Shadwell spat. "RIDE ye?"

Crowley flipped an indignant hand at Shadwell.

"It's been two years and we've had many adventures. I've had more than one time I've had to get out of trouble fast and the fastest way is jumping on his back and letting him do the running. It appears Warlock did the same."

Aziraphale resumed his storytelling until Crowley cut in sudden;y.

'Dagon?! Ugh, that dog. Should have known they'd be around."

Aziraphale ended his noises and Crowley sighed, holding out and arm for the Lion to bump into.

"Warlock got him here and will be waiting for us tomorrow as planned."

Shadwell grunted. "Best get some sleep, then..."

"Gods," Crowley gasped suddenly, looking around the room. "I didn't say farewell to Warlock."

Shadwell frowned and gazed at the darkly clad man hugging a large white lion on the floor.

_ "I might... never see him again." _ The Lion pressed harder against Crowley and wrapped a paw around his back. Crowley looked glum and stroked the mane while watching far into nowhere.

_ "Sorry Warlock, I at least wanted to say thank you for your help."  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I haven't updated quicker! A very busy two weeks. I wanted to keep this chapter lighter and humorous for everyone this week.  
> \-----------  
> Plotline dropped; In the film, they hide Navarre's sword. I really couldn't make that work totally with the drama already and felt it redundant to the plot. So, hopefully it's not a huge deviation.  
> ____________  
> Aziraphale pushes past Warlock and sees his injuries. In the film, Navarre angrily pushes Phillppe over. Even at his worst, I can't see Aziraphale pushing a kid over. He can be stubborn, but not like that.  
> ______________  
> Crowley likes his hair long. Aziraphale REALLY likes his hair long.  
> _______________  
> Gabriel deviously made a dark deal for a glamour covering his nature, that's why Crowley can't read into him. (Will be explained) Crowley cast a glamour in the flashback to have wings and a flaming sword. He also has several physical forms he can slip into when needed, including feminine ones. He identifies with male and is male, but can slip into other forms. He will do this to Aziraphale in the prequel, and obvious it's shocking to him and amusing to Crowley.  
> _______________  
> Crowley in female form is just having fun getting at Warlock. NO INSINUATIONS of anything inappropriate there, Warlock is only 11. Crowley just being his usual teasing self trying to make Warlock feel awkward.  
> __________________  
> Warlock cant hear what Azirphale is saying/thinking when he's a Lion, but his face and attitude are very obvious. So he's never hearing what Crowley can hear, but can obviously guess some of the things he's saying.   
> Damn, Dagon is still around. Might have to deal with them at some point
> 
> ______________  
> Hey, hope all you are holding up in these times and doing well! Stay home, stay safe, keep writing fic!
> 
> Two chapters left! :D


	13. Eclipse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Archbishop Gabriel readies himself for his big day, but questions and doubts remain in the city and among his order.  
> Aziraphale parts giving Shadwell instructions if he should fail.  
> Warlock manages to open the church, but things don't go smoothly as the day becomes night.

Gabriel resembled a living cross as he held his arms out straight from his sides. The Brothers finished adorning him in his newest robes of white, grey, and gold. 

Dagon leaned in the door abruptly.

"Eh, Gabe, Good Brother Uriel asks for your audience."

Gabe moved an arm in a beckoning gesture, much to the chagrin of the Brother fitting the robe nearby.

"By all means, send her in."

Bishop Uriel entered, looking cool and collected.

"My lord," she simply greeted.

"Uriel, you're up early!"

"Same could be said of yourself," she politely pressed with a grin. "But then, it is a day about yourself, so that's understandable."

Gabe shrugged politely.

"If you so humbly say so, my loyal Bishop. Now, what concerns you?"

"Just that;" Uriel coldly returned, "Humble loyalty."

Gabe turned his head with slight exaggeration, goading her to go on.

"Your Grace," Uriel began, "We are but humble servants of our beloved city, is that correct?"

Gabriel scoffed like this was a joke. 

"Naturally."

"This... ceremony, declaring your ultimate dominion as Head Bishop... I would say it flies in the very face of what the Good Order of Tadfield decreed... "

"Ah!" Gabe interrupted, holding up a finger and starting to take a few steps around, talking to the room.

"The GOOD Order is basically The OLD Order. WE, dear Uriel, are The PURE Order."

Uriel refrained from huffing too loudly but held her hands behind her back.

"The Pure Order is, by no means, any less welcoming and holy as that good old Good Order our dear Bishop Derek left us with before..." 

"My Grace, if I may..." Uriel edged in testily.

"Uh, you may not, I am not done here, Uriel." 

Gabe turned to face her as another timid brother busied himself slinging a large gem-studded cross pendant around Gabriel's neck.

Uriel narrowed her eyes but remained silent.

"Where was I? Oh yes! The Pure Order updated and improved that ever so precocious and outdated Good Order by our beloved Bishop Derek before he left for a better place. Now, what concerns you about this, may I ask?"

Uriel didn't even flinch.

"The Good Order was in place in its infancy before the Pure Order. Crude, but welcomed by our city. The movement for the Pure Order by yourself and any loyal to you was constantly brought down as unethical and unwelcoming to so many. The only reason this city flourished several years ago and survived some humiliating onslaughts was because of the open, welcoming nature of the Good Order. Many came as brothers and sisters, not outsiders, and Tadfield flourished. Two years with the introduction of this Pure Order and whispers of strife reach my ears. All are unhappy, many have been turned away from this city that would have given their lives. Above all, the unifier of this Good Order was whispered to have been driven away or murdered..."

Gabriel waved a hand and stepped closer.

"Uriel, your concerns will be addressed. As for the traitorous 'Unifier', I've made it clear not to mention him or his transgressions in my face again. "

Uriel stiffened a little like this was a dare.

"But it seems the people haven't forgotten their Captain..."

"FORMER Captain, Uriel. Former. "

"...And the peace he brought. Let me just say, this day of yours is tainted with whispers among the loyal sheep that a wolf wearing wool ran off their beloved Lion. That one who came as a kind stranger was driven away to darkness and persecution with no grounds. That many are hung daily for simply asking questions..."

"Uriel," Gabriel snapped, getting steely in her face.  "Mention nothing more. The Lion has abandoned his little sheep in disgrace. The Wrong are Righted. And the Serpent made his choice and was sent back to the Hell he didn't have to choose. The Pure Order shall see to your concerns, and don't make me question your loyalty to duty."

Uriel just nodded and stepped away.

"I am loyal. To this city, we love and all it stands for. Blessings to you on your divine crown today. "

Gabe gave a satisfied grin. 

"That's my Uriel. I know I can count on your support."

"Or course," Uriel replied as she left. "I'd do anything for my city, as I am sure you would as well."

______________________________________________

Warlock managed to slip back unnoticed in the dark and creep back to the Church. As he suspected, he could and did find his way in, but it took an excessive amount of backtracking and turning around to find the passage. This made for an already cold, damp and filthy night, with little sleep when he found a discreet ledge to finally rest on.

_ "Hmmm, just gotta open the door tomorrow I suppose. That's all. I hope Aziraphale made it back alright. Hmm, hope the others made it in too. I wonder what will happen... Gabe's not gonna be happy. What will he do to them?  _ " Warlock turned his thoughts coldly for a while longer until the weight of the day pulled him to a fitful sleep.

Aziraphale was already strapping on the under padding for his armour when Shadwell roused from sleep. Crowley was perched quietly nearby.

No one said a thing as the thrum of the town outside them was growing.

Shadwell shuffled to a crate noisily and rummaged around before pulling out a bundle. He shuffled to Aziraphale and held it out.

Aziraphale had been focused on his dressing and looked skeptically at the bundle. 

"Shadwell, this is not a time for a parting token..."

Shadwell held up the bundle and pulled some of the cloth wrappings aside.

"Not a token, Ihm' returnin' you and yours."

Aziraphale slowly grasped the bundle and felt the weight. His eyes popped when he realized what he was holding.

"The rest of... my armour?!" he gasped in confusion.

Shadwell nodded and heaved a deep breath.

"It tis. Ih' found in the places it... fell.."

Aziraphale turned with those words and the memories.

"Thank you Shadwell for this," he rushed with no empathy. 

Shadwell wanted to say more but knew he couldn't and shouldn't. Aziraphale looked even sadder as he pulled on a grieve.

"Fell," he whispered. 

"Fell, " repeated Crowley flatly.

______________________________

_ Celestial Harmonies. Angelic Voices. _

"Huh?" 

Warlock lifted his stiff neck as best he could and blinked.

The harmonies filtered in with the pale ambient light.

"Oh yeah, I'm under the Church. Those you were trying to tell me something, God. Nice one." He stretched and started crawling along the filthy cobble-rock ledge. 

"Okay, Rat. This is the Big One. Can't let them down. Gotta just... open the door somehow at the right moment, which I'll have no idea when that is. "

__________________________________

Gabriel was watching the procession in the yard, smoke billowing from the scenters, waves of long frocks and longer faces moving in solemn tandem, the rising of wailing voices.

_ "They can't resist. Two years and the end shall come? Huh, I'm not convinced, Aziraphale. You want this over as much as I do. " _

He glanced skyward and flinched internally.

"Ahh, I feel it too. The Bind. Well, it's yours to come and beg to end and mine to deny. Crowley. Oh Crowley. You took that pain over what I could have given you..."

"Your Eminence?"

Gabriel shook the haze away and turned.

"Uh, yes? What?"

Uriel gave a skeptical look and gestured to the procession.

"It's your time."

Gabe smiled, every tooth showing.

"I don't think you'll ever know how true those words are, Uriel."

He winked and stepped forward.

____________________________________________

"The Beast is saddled," Shadwell announced, walking towards Aziraphale and Crowley. "Now, eff you would jest' lessen'..."

"No," Aziraphale cut in. "And now, you must listen to me; Shadwell. Please."

He stood in front of the fallen Brother, his helmet under one hand, Crowley perched on the other.

"I shall ride to the Church and make Gabriel yield his power over this bind. We can only hope Warlock can do his part and escape unseen. I will ask you to do anything in your power to find and help him if he's in trouble after this, understood?"

Shadwell nodded. "Of course. I'd try, ef I can."

"Thank you. Just leave with him if you can find him if anything... happens."

"Eh' promise. "

"Thank you," Crowley muttered, speaking for the first time.

Aziraphale righted himself more and looked peaceful.

"If the Church bell rings, I have failed. Gabriel has his mantle, and I will be dead."

Shadwell looked searched his face for another answer, but Aziraphale looked calm as ever.

"Crowley will be condemned to this form at all times unless he goes to Gabriel and relinquishes himself, even if I am gone."

"Ehl' leave with im' too and we'll go far away..."

Crowley croaked and shifted his feet, settling down more like he was sleepy.

Aziraphale shook his head.

"No. We had discussed this before and wrote to each other over the last two years. If I am gone, he requested that he'd rather be gone as well."

Shadwell pulled back and bulged his eyes.

"No! Yah' din' meannit!"

"Yes," Crowley croaked, barely moving.

"I canno'!"

Aziraphale looked pained but firm.

"You must, I beg you. As a final favor. " 

He held out the hand Crowley perched on, and Shadwell raised his own. Crowley shuffled over to it without a word. 

"But... eh...eh' "...

Aziraphale pulled up Crowley's slim, slightly curved dagger and held it by the blade for Shadwell to take.

"You must, and you know this. Crowley will be killed one way or another if I'm gone. Or Gabriel will have control over this bind and... find him. Crowley told he'd rather die and meant it."

Shadwell took the blade.

He inhaled and just closed his eyes as an answer.

_ "I understan' " _

"Thank you, " whispered Aziraphale, bowing his head. "I ask nothing more of you. Just take care of Warlock."

Shadwell went slack all over. 

Aziraphale looked one last time at Crowley, who wasn't even raising his head.

Shadwell could tell he was trying to find one final thing to say, but couldn't. He raised his gloved hand around the bird's shoulder and pulled his face close. Crowley hardly moved.

"I'll see you soon," he whispered as tears began to streak.

"One way or another," Crowley muttered.

Aziraphale pulled away and slammed on his helmet.

He made it to the door, but stood in it for an instant, turning back.

Shadwell saw the Captain he knew and remembered from the years back.

Fully armed. Noble. A steely gaze from within the confines of that helmet.

_ The Lion of Tadfield, come home. _

Aziraphale gave a small wave.

"Farewell."

______________________________________

Warlock crept up to the grate and pressed his view up to it.

People were moving about in ceremonial waves. Chanting. 

_ "The Works. Sheesh. Now I see why I always skipped Church." _

He started pressing up on the grate, and he was thrilled it was pretty loose and close enough to a wall to be discreet.

He still waited, trying to get a feel for the commotion and crowd.

_ "And the huge doors, there! Over at the far end. Hmmm," _

He felt in his pocket for the lock pick set.

Oddly, it wasn't his lock pick set. Shadwell had discreetly given it to him before departing.

He was given no straight answer why a Brother would possess such an item, and Shadwell said it was all a past left in the past, that was where it should be left.

_ "Whatever. Since I don't see a key master anywhere, it looks like I had better pray my picking skills are what they used to be..." _

__________________________

The Mass was in the Church. 

More solid than the stone that shaped it, ominous, tall, and thrumming with the buzz of life. Aziraphale cantered towards it

_ "Like a living coffin. Filled with hornets...hmmm, I not a bad analogy. I should have taken up poetry as I had wanted to. " _

The streets were mostly devoid of people.

_ "Like on the fateful day." _

And he swore the sky looked different. Off.

_ "Just like that day too. God, please, give me strength. Someone give me strength." _

He turned Bentley into the churchyard, pulling up his broadsword.

There were several guards mounted on horses on the watch.

He righted himself and pulled Bentley into his stateliest trot.

The reactions from the men and women guards said enough to him.

They started whispering and chattering as the head of the unit pulled forth.

Aziraphale pulled up. 

He recognized the head of this unit. Sir Lesley. He had been a Junior Commander in his unit before. 

Sir Lesley's ever hang-dog wearied face looked jarred as he gaped.

"I, Aziraphale of Tadfield," Aziraphale declared broadly, "Former Captain and hopefully soon to return as your Captain, demand you part from my path now. I seek no fight with any of you, and you have no need to die at my hands."

Lesley held his sword and looked conflicted as he glanced back at his men for reactions.

"Well, I will have to ask within..."

"There is no time for this," Aziraphale growled. "My matters concern no one here, just the Bishop and myself. Stand aside."

"Let him pass, Sir," encouraged one of the guards in the back.

_ "The voice..." _

Everyone spun to look at the timidest of the group, seated in the back.

"Newton," Aziraphale whispered.

The affably boyish face smirked a little.

"Yes, Sir. Good to see you Sir. Please, my Commander, just let him pass. He's on our side."

The Unit Commander seemed to soften and pulled his horse away.

"I know. I never forgot my Captain and knew he hadn't abandoned us or the city."

Aziraphale breathed with a small grin.

"Thank you.."

A screech cut in. 

"AH!! The Cat!" 

_ "Dagon." _

Dagon had been circling nearby, spotted them, and tore off yelling.

"The Cat! Gabe!! Dammit! Gabe!!"

"Go now," Lesley suddenly urged, gritting his teeth as he watched Dagon tear off. "You don't have long, but we will rouse the rest of the soldiers."

He abruptly spurred away, not before crying back, "The troops of Tadfield remain loyal to the only true Captain and await his return." 

Several other troops peeled off in various directions, wishing Aziraphale luck and calling him Captain.

Aziraphale spurred Bentley, and heard Newton crying out, "Good luck Sir! See you at the Church, Sir!"

____________________

Warlock had found a spare friars robe and slipped into it. Oversized, but the best disguise he could muster. He blended in well with the crowd of other young friars as he slowly made his way to the door. 

The vaulted ceilings reverberated with the hum of voices.

He saw Gabriel at the other end o the Church, surrounded by his entourage. He pulled up his hood and started muttered as holy as he could for a boy who had no prays in his memory, just random chants he had heard before.

"All hail Odegra, all hail the great beast...  _ Good Enough _ ."

___________

Shadwell sat in the simple room attached to the stable. Crowley was perched on the back of a wooden chair nearby, hardly shuffling.

As soon as Aziraphale had left, Shadwell opened one of the more massive trunks and pulled out a complete suite of black and red armour with a serpent across the breastplate, and laid it out. He hoped this might animate the sullen bird.

Crowley hardly noticed it or didn't even pretend to.

"Angel," he heard the bird muttered once, but nothing more.

Shadwell waited for a sound, and sign.

He felt the wind getting cooler and stared up at the sky.

_ "Sun es' still there, but somethin' looks.. strange. Clouds? Like a storm? _ "

_____________________________

Warlock made it to the door and tried to remain low as he began, but knew he was exposed.

Every eye should be focused on Gabriel and the whole swirl of the ceremony, but he knew he was naked.

He began going through the picks and jabbing them in the escutcheon.

" _ No, too small... closer but not quite. Ack, c'mon, this is a simple one!" _

He glanced behind. To his fear, he caught the slow movement of someone gliding his way. Just a soldier, far at the end of the Church. 

But he only made contact for a split second and he knew he was being ferreted out. 

_ "Oh damn! C'mon! C'mon! Stupid picks!!!! Give me one that works next time Shadwell! Didn't you ever try and pick your way out of this goddam Church?! Or maybe he couldn't, so he became a Brother because.... Ack! FOCUS RAT!"  _

The Guard was moving ever faster, and Warlock jabbed frantically with the picks.

______________________________

Aziraphale drove Bentley right up the church stairs.

"Doors are closed. Please, Warlock, be there."

He looked around and heard shouting nearby, knowing time was running out fast. And then he noticed the sky and felt even more desperate. 

_ "Darkening? Clouds like a storm? It's not... time is coming to an end." _

He urged the horse as close as he could to the door and shouted.

"WARLOCK!"

_________________________

Warlock heard Aziraphale's voice fainting through the door and he gasped.

"Dammit! Crowley needs to show me how to blow up locks!"

Holding picks in both hands he gingerly probed and felt the innards of the lock click, clack, tumble..."

"Hey! Boy!" A voice shouted. 

Warlock didn't look back as he probed harder. 

Then he heard the approaching shrieking of a voice he recognized.

"GABE! THE CAT! THE DAMN CAT!"

The Church seemed to dim down at the shouting, except for footsteps coming up behind Warlock and Dagon's cry.

__________________

Aziraphale spun Bentley back as far as he could, then spurred hard.

"Bentley!" He shouted as loud as he could, "KICK IT IN! STAND BACK WARLOCK!"

The horse built up incredible speed in the short burst and, with a guttural bray, reared back hard. The horses' might front legs curled up then struck forward hard against metal and wood.

________________________

** CLANK. **

_ "Got it!"  _

Warlock stood up and spun as he saw the soldier's middle coming right at his face and an arm up with a sword. He gasped, yet the solider stopped at the shouting on the other side of the door.

Warlock heard his name and to stand back.

_ "Uh oh..." _

Warlock dove from the door as the confused soldier, sword still aloft, spun towards the door, just as it whipped open, slamming him aside.

The whole service had halted with the shouting and confusion.

Now every person inside the building gasped in unison.

A huge black horse reared in the doorway. On it's back was an armoured Knight, head to toe clad in grey, white, and gold with a single wrap of black and red cloth around on elbow that fluttered like a ribbon.

The horse slammed down with a growl.

Gabriel clutched the podium he was behind and bulged his eyes.

_ "It can't be. But of course, it is _ ."

Aziraphale looked around, trying to steady himself. He spotted Warlock crouched nearby. The boy gave a thumbs up.

Aziraphale had to grin and he raised his sword in salute.

"Thank you, dear boy! Now, " he turned forward and glared fire at the grey figure at the end of the room. "Gabriel."

Bentley reared again with an animal yell then moved forward in a gracefully airy bounce. People were silently chattering and pointing.

"He is back! The Captain is back!"

The sound of the horse bellowing and stamping was like a drum before an execution in Gabe's head. 

The horse was leaping in an airy, otherwordly bounce, step by step towards him. Aziraphale couldn't have arrived more gallant and knightly, moving through the hall like a vision. Gabriel could just see those cold blue eyes as the horse approached.

Aziraphale checked just before the pulpit that Gabriel was still anchored to trying to appear calm.

Bentley reared one more time and slammed his hooves down.

Like the final challenge.

"Gabriel," bloomed the voice he hoped never to hear again. "I have returned to my city to right the wrongs end your occupation as an oppressor, and command of you the end of this evil on myself and the one I love."

He saw the determined chin, the mouth pressed together tight behind the helmet, and those eyes blazing like an animal deep into his own.

Gabriel glanced at the Church and knew every single ear was keened to him now at this moment. He opened his mouth to speak, but to his relief, fate answered for him in the form of a clattering noise.

Hoofbeats, clashing at a frenzied speed, up the stairs.

Aziraphale saw Gabriels face relax smugly as he stared at the entrance.

He glanced back as Michael, on her grey charger made it through the doorway. Not even pausing, longsword out, fully armoured and helmeted. The horse crashed up the aisle, wrapped in her inhuman scream.

** "AZZZIIII-RAAAA-PHAAAAAAALE!" **

Aziraphale knew he was at a disadvantage if he didn't act swift, He already urged Bentley as fast as he could to meet her. She was still screaming as he craned back, raising his broadsword.

In a matter of seconds, the pounding of horse feet met each other, as did the war cries. It was capped with swords madly clanging against each other. The Church was all gasping and cries of surprise by the people.

Both had met the other foes blade perfectly and raced to pass the other. 

Gabriel pulled back a little as Michael wheeled close and barely stopped. Aziraphale decided to try and press for a full charge and kept Bentley going before sweeping him around with no pause. Michael spurred her horse hard and regained speed. 

The distance narrowed again as the crowd shimmered with anticipation.

There was another crash of sword, and Michael nearly toppled backward off her horse. 

Aziraphale pressed closer towards Gabriel, who pulled back behind some of his guards. Several had pikes they began to lower, but Aziraphale tried to get closer.

Gabe grimaced at the sight of the horse coming just close enough he could smell it and hearing Aziraphale's blade slashing.

Michael suddenly pressed up, landing blows, and both of them spun at each other, moving back into the center of the Church.

Aziraphale landed another blow and Michael keeled backward, the horse even losing its footing.

She growled and remounted before the animal was back on it's feet, and struck forward again. Aziraphale was cautiously trying to steer past clusters of thunderstruck friars and Bishops when he recircled right into Michael. She came with another furious charge, but it was rendered futile as Aziraphale 's blow unhorsed her.

Michael scrabbled at her helmet, yanking it free. Her hair that she always kept tied uptight was madly unspooling. She curled back her body and flung her helmet at Aziraphale, who ducked as it sailed upward.

Right into a stained glass window, shattering many of the panes, sending down a multicolored shimmering rain.

"Nice shot, Michael!" Warlock shouted from the other end of the Church.

"Seven years bad luck!"

"That's for mirrors!" Aziraphale shrieked as he turned Bentley back at Gabriel and glowered. He was about to spur forward, but with an animal shriek, Michael grappled Aziraphale by the side and pulled him downward.

They landed on each other hard and both were struggling to overpower each other. To his terror, Aziraphale realized his broadsword had rolled out of his hand. He pulled ot his feet and grappled Michael as they just began raining gauntleted blows on each other. They both continued fighting to the small stairs right in front of the pulpit. Michael pushed even harder and pinned Aziraphale against the stair with all her weight, grappling for his neck.

Aziraphale raised a leg and kicked her forcefully back into a stone pillar. He started scanning for his sword when he heard a thunderous roll from outside.

His urgency paused as he saw the sun through the broken window.

The ominous murky clouds were clawing away from it, but a darkness lingered and grew. Something was blocking it.

Aziraphale suddenly remembered Crowley mentioned a phenomenon like this. Like another world moved in front of the sun, but it was a shadow.

Aziraphale pulled off his helmet to see better, and his heart seemed to stop.

_ "Like a night during a day. The sun, it's vanishing." _

The churchgoers were all chattering and pointing upward. People were outside crying out in terror.

"Oh, god. Shadwell was right! It IS like night and day!"

He glanced at Gabriel, who was more ashen in color than his frock.

Gabe leaned to Dagon, stationed by his side. "Go, now," he ordered. "Tell the bell ringer to ring the bells now, or I will hang him by their ropes!'

"It's true!" Aziraphale swelled with a radiant smile at the corners of his mouth.  _ "It's a day and a night! Shadwell was right! OH GOD." _

His hair stood on end, and his eyes swelled.

** "SHADWELL! CROWLEY!" **

Gabriel stepped down from the pulpit with his entourage, looking skyward. His glare back at Aziraphale defied him, daring him to make a move. Aziraphale got up and tried to run.

"Shadwell! Wait!! "

Aziraphale was an unquestionably powerful knight, but there was one thing he never excelled at; Running.

_ "Oh god, if I could on be that damn Lion for just a moment, I could cover the distance so much faster! Puff! For the love of it, why do I always think I'm doing the right thing, and it always seems to fail?!" _

Michael lurched in his path, crouching with her sword in her hand, heaving like a frenzied creature. 

Aziraphale spotted Warlock creeping along the edge of the crowd, holding the broadsword and checked in his tracks.

Locking his gaze with the Captain and gave a flat grin with a little tip of his head.

"Farewell, Michael. I won't miss you."

He lunged her hard in a low tackled and pushed her for several feet backward. She landed hard, and Aziraphale regained balance just as Warlock slid the sword across the floor. Snatching it up, he double handed it for a high blow ontop of Michael as she tried to stand.

The fatal blow checked it's self with the single peal of a bell ring.

Gabriel looked skyward and grinned.

"Thank the Lord!" he praised, raising his arms. "All hail your Divine and Eternal Bishop of Tadfield!" 

______________________________________________

The Bell sounded in Tadfield.

Shadwell clutched his heart and looked at Crowley. He had nearly dozed off in the deafening wait. Now he was shaken back to the living nightmare, and the worst of it had become real.

The Raven's wings hung at his sides as his head rolled down.

"Dead," he croaked. 

Shadwell looked at the knife and back the bird.

"God have mercy on me," he whimpered. " _ Oh god, must beh' fast, it's all over and ah' pay my price." _

"Ack," the bird choked.

"Ihm' sorry, Crowley" Shadwell whispered, going towards the knife.

"S'alright" Crowley gagged feebly. "S'alright. It's over."

Shadwell steeled himself and knew he had to do the promised task swiftly or he'd lose his nerve. But the sight of the Raven barely able to hold it's self up made Shadwell pinch back tears.

He paused, glancing back at the sky.

"Sorry aboot everthin' " he sobbed, feeling as if the very eyes of the Heaven's were forcing him to finish this.

The clouds were pulling apart, but the sky was still darkening.

" _ The... sun? _ " He suddenly moved to the window and stared out.

" _ It's.... somethin' has changed... the shadows!" _

Shadwell squinted and gasped, "Crowley? Da' ya see?"

"S'lright" Crowley sighed. "Shoulda left. AhhhHhKk!!!"

"Crowley! Damn ya'! Something ez happenin'!"

There was a deep-throated sobbing from Crowley following the words and Shadwell's head spun around.

" _ Crowley _ ?!"

"Shoulda left! Haaahk! We should haaave yearsss ago! I told him that. But he was too stubborn, and I was too frightened and alone and afraid of losing everything and..."

____________________________________________

Warlock was slack jawed staring up.

"It is happening!! The moon and the sun are up there! Holy gods! C'mon Aziraphale! Fight and get out of here! Oh god, can Crowley see this?!"

Warlock couldn't tear himself from seeing how this would end here but wanted to run and find Shadwell now.

_________________________

Aziraphale's heart pumped louder than the bells as he couldn't remove his eyes from the sun.

The crowd was also chattering loudly at the spectacle.

" _ Oh god, Shadwell... was right. It's.... like the night is falling." _

He could feel it in his body, on the bind at his wrist, in his soul.

Like a window was opened in a stifling room, and a cool breeze was wafting away a stagnant smell of death.

_"He... is ... right... CROWLEY....."_

The bells shattered his serenity.

He felt as if he had just plummeted from the highest steeple of the Church and hit the floor, gasping hard. He looked at the sky. Then at Gabriel, transfixed in his final emotional blow to his enemy while preening in the wavering light. Over at Warlock who gave a helpless shrug. Out the door, knowing the huge distance he couldn't spring even on the horse to get to Crowley. Back at Michael getting up again looking madder than before.

There was nothing he could do. Or say. Every single emotion of the last two years well up from inside, and he did say something.

Loudly.

** "OH... FUCK!" ** he yelled at the top of his lungs.

The whole Church heaved it's loudest in unison, and a few nuns crossed themselves.

"Whoa!" Chortled Warlock, covering his mouth.

"SORRY!" Aziraphale apologized with equal force.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Added scene of Uriel with Gabe. Why? She has a part to play later in the sequel. ;) Plus, I wanted to show the city really isn't that fond of Gabe and his order.
> 
> The story of why and how Shadwell has pieces of Aziraphale's armour and Crowley's armour will be explained in the prequel.
> 
> Again, I cut out the little bit of Warlock hiding the sword and returning it, there was enough drama and story going.  
> He still does retrieve it. ;)
> 
> Sir Lesley is the Delivery Guy. Hey, c'mon, give him a role in here.
> 
> Yeah, Dagon is still around. I've almost killed her three times while writing this.
> 
> Cameo by Newton! Newton was Aziraphale's page before.
> 
> Hmm, maybe Shadwell had lock picking skills before? Who knows.
> 
> Having a crow I've experienced if they are sad or emotionally hurt, they will look droopy and sick.
> 
> And another point I will make for this; I choose to make some of the characters that 'presented' as female in the show (Michael, Uriel, Dagon) with female pronouns (She, her)  
> I just like to have more genders in this than male and neutral, but will probably make Beez neutral in the future works. Not trying to rock the boat, and I LOVED Good Omens on the show had names, genders, and presentations all over the place in all sorts of combos. But for simple fairy tale's sake, I just want this setting to have the fanciful twist of men and women in interchangeable roles, like Knights and Bishops already without any issue.
> 
> And of course, Warlock thinks it's the moon going in front of the sun when it's a shadow.
> 
> And NO, I don't like cliffhanging people to be a little prick, but I felt the final act needed breaking up and this was a good point to. ;)
> 
> Another point is in the show Crowley had holy water to presumably kill himself if he had to. I am going with that for his character here that he's firm in his decision to die if he feels his life would be over (alone and hunted, or stuck in an animal form by himself). Aziraphale may be conflicted about this (explained later) but both have communicated they would rather not have one live in the animal state alone and have settled on this. 
> 
> One more chapter! ^^ Hope you all are holding up well!


	14. Reunited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything comes to an end under the eclipse.

Aziraphale was pounding up the aisle shouting as loud as he could.

**"SHADWELL! NO! WAIT! SHADWELL!"**

Michael lurched in front of his path, heaving breath like a bellow.

Behind her unkempt and knocked appearance, Aziraphale still saw the wrath in her eyes.

_"I hate you, I've always hated you, and now is your time to die."_

Aziraphale scrunched his face up in a small false smile.

"Farewell Michael," he growled. "I won't miss you."

They both sprinted at each other at the same instant.

Michael's hatred won that charge this time as she flung Aziraphale back. Gabriel stepped forward as the former Captain clashed onto the ground, broadsword bobbling out of his hand. His own armour slamming in his back winded him and he winced. Michael's eyes never left his face and she grappled her sword with both hands and lurched forward.

The crowd was shimmering with noise.

"Finish him, NOW!" Gabriel barked.

Aziraphale dared to look at the sun, nearly hidden, except for a burning sliver on one side. 

_"No use, it's over anyhow... Crowley_..."

Micahel's feral figure moved closer.

"No!" Warlock quietly shouted. "Just, get up, man! C'mon! Please!"

Aziraphale saw The Rat's face for an instant and swallowed.

_"Sorry Warlock, please go while you can..."_

"Get up, Captain!" cut Newton's voice from the doorway of the church.

Gabriel snapped from his leering. 

"Yes, Captain!" Lesley chimed in. 

Michael froze for an instant, her face going red. Aziraphale looked past her to see a small throng of soldiers, many faces he remembered. 

Gabriel scowled.

 _"Oh no, they can't. They will all pay for this_."

His fuming was buzzed by Uriel making a small smug 'hmpf' by his side, and he felt her eyes digging into his ear.

A frisson of liveliness ran through the crowd.

"Come on, Captain!" shouted Warlock through his cupped hands.

Michael screamed and charged.

_"Captain. I am still the Captain._

Aziraphale waited until she was almost on top of him, plunging the sword downward. He rolled against her legs, unsettling her stance. He then changed direction, rolling to the side and scrabbling for her sword that he unhanded with his body. 

She tried to spin with all her might to meet Aziraphale and reclaim her weapon but was too late as he plunged the blade deftly in her side through her breastplate's armhole. 

She rendered shock for an instant as she crumpled down. 

A quiet gasp floated through the crowd, and Gabriel gawked. 

_"Man,"_ Warlock thought, " _Aziraphale's a real thug for a guy that likes to sit around and drink tea."_

Aziraphale turned and sucked in a breath.

He strode for the pulpit and the looming grey figure.

A defending soldier ran forth to try and halt Aziraphale but was beaten aside in a single blow. Another shambled forward with less bravery but turned the moment the broadsword was raised.

No one else dared, and the path to the Archbishop lay bare.

The figures around him pulled back. Uriel, still holding her head high and hands pressed in front of her body, gave a nod and pulled away.

Gabriel was alone behind his stand, like a spire. 

Aziraphale's eyes didn't sparkle blue but flamed steel. He was heaving like a horse. His clothes were soiled and tattered from blade cuts, and blood randomly slashed across his body. There was a cut somewhere under his hairline, and a small drying streak of it dabbed his forehead. 

Gabriel opened his hands before himself in a divine ironic gesture. Acknowledged. Accepting. Welcoming. Gloating. Mocking. Defeating.

"Very good, " he drolled with his biggest smile. "Very very good. I shouldn't have expected anything less of you, Aziraphale. I have to admit-" he winked and leaned a little closer, "- I really didn't think you could hold out so long. Or make it back alive for that matter! But, even an ArchBishop is wrong sometimes, right?"

"Gabriel," gnarred The Captain with a shivering voice, "You know why I have come." He leaned a little closer, sounding ready to scream but restraining with the last he had in his soul.

"End. It. NOW."

Gabriel put his hands down and smirked.

"Oh, Aziraphale," he chided. "Really? Do you think I'd just do that?"

Aziraphale's nostrils were flaring, and he wasn't blinking.

"No," he whispered. "I will kill you here and now in my very church..."

"Oh, stop there!" Gabriel held up a finger. "You are double wrong, Little Knight. It's MY church..."

"It's the church of Tadfield and all in it," growled Aziraphale. "And I am Tadfield as much as you are..."

"And, 'Tadfield,' " Gabriel sliced back, "You can't kill me! How else can the curse be lifted then?" He leaned in with a mock expression of _"How? Huh?"_

Aziraphale didn't shift.

Gabriel glanced up at the sun, and the world seemed to darken to its deepest shade yet. He grinned.

"And," he teased as his eyes drifted from the heavens, "Don't think of just yourself. Poor Crowley."

Aziraphale lowered the sword as water welled in his eyes.

Gabriel caught the tears starting to quiver, and it was evident, as his face sagged in the corners, he knew what Aziraphale was about to say.

"Crowley," The Captain forced out at barely a whisper. 

Gabriel leaned closer.

_"Don't tell me this Aziraphale..."_

"He's dead." Aziraphale's voice was shrill, and the tears streaked down his face.

___________________________

Warlock grabbed at the oversized robe front and swallowed hard.

 _"How can he be dead?"_ he wondered but sensed from the gravity of everything it was true.

 _"No, it can't be. He could be normal if he was here. Aziraphale is just gonna fall apart in a moment. Or get killed. Or get dragged to the dungeon without a fight."_ He glanced over at the small army that had entered the church and saw their grim reactions. 

Lesley looked at his troops and saw Newton's eyes cast downward.

"Oh god, what do I tell Anathema?" he moaned. 

Warlock felt tears coming to his eyes.

_"God, you goddam bastard. We are no longer talking and..."_

He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up to the grizzled face of...

"Shadwell?" Warlock gasped. "What happened?!"

"Ez' over, laddie."

_________________

Gabriel grabbed the podium sides and leaned closer.

"He... can't be dead."

Aziraphale nodded.

"He said he'd rather be dead than cursed or in your hands."

Gabriel fumed, losing his composure fully.

"He was mine! I could have saved him! "

Aziraphale shook his head and looked slightly bemused.

"You can't touch him anymore," he whispered in triumph. 

Aziraphale raised his blade with no joy, and looked resolute. 

Gabriel sneered. "Well then, Aziraphale, former Captain of the Guard, let's see where we are both headed in the eyes of our maker."

Aziraphale heaved and seethed between his teeth as his arms started to build for a swing. 

"Damn you, Gabriel. Damn you to Hell."

"You first..."

" **_AZIRAPHALE!_ **" yelled a voice from the threshold.

Gabriel had been literally leaning towards the broadsword in dare and now flipped upward, mouth agape.

The whole church thrummed with gasping and quiet talking.

The voice hit Aziraphale like an arrow, and he froze.

"Aziraphale?" the voice pleaded quietly.

He turned slowly, viscerally ready for another mirage or ghost.

In the hazy light of doorway stood the very tall figure of Crowley.

He was clad in the blackest armour trimmed in red with the emblem of a red serpent scrolled on the breastplate. His cape was black with a blazing red lining and reached to the floor. He held his helmet under one arm and the longsword was at his hip. Around one elbow was tied a cloth ribbon of white.

The long auburn locks that usually flowed wild were combed back, except for some pulled up in a ponytail behind his head.

His golden eyes shone in the dim light, and Warlock realized, despite his stoic face, he was crying. Though he looked, even more, intimidating in armour, and even refined and robust, his bearing was nervous.

Like he was lost and timid to go into the church. 

Gabriel was gasping like a fish out of water.

Aziraphale appeared to have forgotten how to use his body.

"Crowley?" he mouthed wordlessly.

"Crowley?!" barked Warlock in shock.

Warlock felt his world turned upside down, seeing Crowley like this. After so many nights of his hiding and secretive nature, it was like seeing a wild mythical creature walking down a busy street. He also was reeling seeing both men at once. It was weird, like the moon and sun side by side in the sky...

"Hurry, Crowley!" Warlock shouted. "The sun will come back!! Come on!"

Crowley glanced from side to side as the other knights parted to either side, leaving a long path towards the shaking Captain and Archbishop. Gabriel looked possessed, yet held out a hand. His gesture beckoned. _"Come here. I will welcome you."_

Crowley locked his eyes and gave a small head shake. 

_"No."_

Gabriel jutted his chin and narrowed his gaze, clenching the hand closed.

"The Deceiver is not welcome in our house, " Gabriel announced. "He cannot enter."

Aziraphale hadn't stopped hyperventilating. He reached out his hand.

"Come," he mouthed, unable to speak from the tears.

Crowley stepped over the threshold, closing his eyes.

He opened them and took another.

People began chattering in mute voices.

"No," hissed Gabriel waving the hand violently.

Warlock saw Crowley gasp and cringe in obvious pain. Shadwell was snorting and gripping Warlock's shoulder. 

"No! Please, Crowley!" begged Warlock helplessly, "Don't stop! Just go!"

Aziraphale took one step down from the small stairs and got down on a knee, still holding a hand out. 

"Crowley," he rasped, which made the red-heads eyes snap up to look Aziraphale in the face. "Please," he coaxed, holding out the other hand alongside the first, "Come to me."

Crowley's eyes darkened as he started to move again.

"I said you CAN'T enter!" Gabriel shouted, slamming the podium.

Crowley flinched and gasped, stumbling.

Aziraphale didn't waver, and a small smile welled on his lips.

"Crowley," he whispered. "You can do it. Come."

Crowley bared his teeth and let the helmet roll from his grip.

He stood his tallest and took another step.

"NO! " Gabriel yelled, moving from behind the podium to the top of the stairs.

"I am the Arch-Fucking-Bishop of Tadfield, AND YOU WILL NOT ENTER!"

The largest gasp-in-unison ripped through the church, and several nuns fainted.

"Jesus effing Christ!" Warlock swore in disbelief.

"Watch yer filthy mouth, ye son of an ugly heathen!" Shadwell chided.

Crowley, mouth opened and gasping, sweat beading on his forehead, pushed forward. He bared his teeth like an animal and started ripping off his left glove, slamming it down, still in loping motion. Aziraphale's arms were still out, but he frantically pulled off his right glove as the black figure wobbled into a run. 

Blue and Golden eyes locked as they stretched to each other, both afraid the transformation would take everything away in an instant.

"Stop!" Gabriel yelled uselessly. The whole church interior was now at it's darkest all around, except for some candles within. A muted shaft of light was spilling through the hole in the window straight onto Aziraphale, illuminating his pale form. 

_"Don't fade, don't change, don't disappear, don't be a waking dream." Aziraphale's mind begged._

_"I promised I'd always find you. Come to me, Angel."_

"Do it!" Warlock shouted as the space between their fingers closed.

"Angel!"

"Crowley!"

The fingers laced together in a single tight fist.

Aziraphale panted as he was yanked to his feet, but Crowley made a yelping noise like a man burnt. The sensation that filled his fingers was two years of feeling at once and almost overthrew him. The blackness of his cloak and height appeared to swallow The Captain for a moment until Aziraphale lunged up to wrap an arm around Crowley's back.

The manner that Crowley tottered and Aziraphale's feral embrace made Warlock think precisely of the first time he saw the Lion embrace the sorcerer.

The whole church was alive with chattering.

"Yes!" Newton cheered, pumping and arm. 

The energy of their meeting didn't stop as Crowley staggered around in a sweep. They both were pressed tightly until Aziraphale leaned back a little and grabbed Crowley by the face.

"Look at me!" he whispered, reeling with tears. Crowley placed his hands on Azirapahle's face and started to grin.

"Found ya'," he smirked.

Aziraphale lunged up for a kiss, dragging Crowley downward by his neck.

"Eeeeeeewwww!" Warlock hissed.

Shadwell covered his eyes.

"Thanks, man!" Warlock said.

The whole church started to applaud, and the soldiers cheered.

Gabriel was carved in stone inside and out, and slowly slumped to his knees beside the pulpit.

The kiss was going on so long that Crowley finally pushed away.

"Angel, listen..."

"Crowley," Aziraphale whimpered, grabbing his collar. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." He was starting to cry again.

"Stop it, you..." Crowley hissed, trying to calm him. 

Aziraphale was shaking his head.

"It's my fault! I shouldn't have done this! I'm sorry...."

"Aziraphale, listen!" Crowley grabbed his shoulders. "It doesn't matter! We are back now! Now let's FINISH this before it's too late!" 

Crowley produced his long knife with a single motion and held up his bare wrist. He pulled back his sleeve to bare the Bind.

Aziraphale gasped and pulled up his wrist with the blue Bind.

Pressing them close, Crowley slipped the blade between them both and slashed. The bands fell free. Crowley looked around like he heard his name called, then grinned.

"The Bind is broken," he whispered to Aziraphale. "It's over."

Crowley gathered the strips in his hand and gently pushed away from Aziraphale. He turned his molten gaze at Gabriel, still shaking on the ground. He took stealthy steps towards the Archbishop, frowning with vehemence. 

Along with the wonder, desire, and yearning Gabriel had for Crowley, he also had that thrill of fear about him. So wild and dangerous. Now it was just fear as the black figure loomed over him, clutching the strips like a weapon in his face. Crowley leaned closer, and Gabriel held up his hands feebly in defense. Crowley flung the pieces at the Archbishop, which made him twitch.

"Leave us," he growled. "Never bother us again."

He turned and righted himself, suddenly taking in the whole church, feeling the giddy sensation of apprehension. Until he looked back and saw Aziraphale, tattered and heaving, waiting for him again. Aziraphale held out a hand and gave a small smile. Crowley didn't see two years of suffering and hiding. He didn't feel the waves of unwelcome eyes on him; instead, the room felt accepting. He glanced and saw the men who served under Azirphale standing stalwart. He glimpsed to his side and saw several of the minor priests nodding in consent. He recognized Uriel, who nodded and pulled back. He spotted Shadwell in the crowd and felt a growing pang of forgiveness. And Warlock which made him smile.

_"You rascal, you made it!! Damn you!"_

He turned back to see his beloved blue eyes waiting. Aziraphale held up a hand, barely holding back his tears of joy.

"Let's go," he whispered.

Gabriel clutched his chest in terror and fury.

"If not me, no one, not me, no one then....."

He rose and glared at the auburn ponytail and locks that moved away from him that he could never touch. Never caress.

"No one, then...." he hissed as he gripped for his ferula beside the pulpit. The butt end was spear like and he raised it, staggering up behind Crowley.

"Watch out!" Warlock cried out.

Crowley didn't change expression briskly but stepped sideways.

Aziraphale flung his arms back and forward hard, sending his broadsword spinning through the air, straight at Gabriel.

It punctured the grey robes with deadly accuracy and sent the Archbishop backward. Gabriel registered shock for only a moment at the sword hilt in front of him.

He gasped a last breath, coughing blood.

"Not me, no one...Crow..."

His words dropped off as his neck went limp. 

Crowley turned with a sneer at the body and didn't move.

Aziraphale looked wild-eyed and anxious and began to pull back in the realization of his actions.

_"Oh god, I've just condemned us..."_

"Oh shit," whispered Warlock .

Shadwell cuffed the side of his head. 

"Nayt' in church!" 

Total silence, until a voice sliced through it.

"Shame," Uriel's voice sounded as she stepped forward from the corner she had been in.

She came closer to Gabriel's limp form and grabbed the sword hilt.

"Such a shame for our church," she continued, yanking the sword free. "Our own Archbishop, driven mad and killing himself in envy."

She held the sword, tip pointed down and glanced around the church. 

"Agreed," Sir Lesley's voice chimed. "Such a shame for our church."

"Yes, yes it is, " Newton seconded.

A murmur went through the crowd.

"Yes, Shame, Madness. Yes. It's a shame."

Crowley's brows raised. Aziraphale looked confused as Uriel stepped closer.

"Such an embarrassment and tragedy for our town, it's best we move on." She came face to face with Aziraphale. "Our city requires a Captain who will work with their Archbishop as one."

Aziraphale collected his thoughts and cleared his throat.

"The Captain," he announced, "Will gladly serve his CITY for the better of the people, and would expect the same of his troops."

Uriel glanced up at the mass of soldiers who looked back.

"Of course," She acknowledged. 

Aziraphale gave a dry grin that threatened no haggling. "The interest of our people comes before our desires."

"We are but humble servants," Uriel agreed.

"And all we love shall be welcome under our roof," Aziraphale added as his eyes flitted to Crowley.

Uriel folded her hands in front of herself on top of the pommel. "I wouldn't see it any other way."

"And pardons will be granted to those whom service we shall be forever indebted to on this day," Azirpahle continued, glancing back at Shadwell and Warlock.

Uriel looked curtly at Aziraphale.

"I cannot freehand out all the..."

"Grant it," Aziraphale warned, leaning close. "I shall be the servant to my city that I was always born to be. I ask of you some simple favors, my Archbishop Uriel."

Uriel only paused for a second before providing a simple smile that answered all.

"My Captain," she offered, holding out the sword, "May the city we love flourish under our guidance...."

"And we need the rest of the month off and not to be bothered," whispered Crowley from behind.

Uriel sighed and resumed.

"May our city be restored to its glory. Welcome back, Lion of Tadfield. "

"My revered Archbishop," Aziraphale bowed.

Aziraphale took back his broadsword as Uriel gave a small bow. A rising noise of a cheer started rising from the troops for their Captain. Aziraphale looked sheepish and gave a small wave to his men. Crowley stalked up behind him and hugged his shoulders.

Warlock had been clapping along with the troops feeling a surge of emotion he had no idea how to describe. It was all over and done, everything they had set out to do. How could he feel sad and happy at the same time? He couldn't stop crying, wondering what and where he would go now.

_"Crowley and Aziraphale have each other and it's all over and..."_

Shadwell shook his shoulder.

"Warlock, laddie" he hissed, "Yer bein' called."

Warlock realized Aziraphale was calling his name.

Shadwell started hustling towards the center of the church.

_"Oh sheesh, no! No, don't march me out there."_

As they came closer, Aziraphale got down on his knee and embraced Warlock hard. Warlock couldn't help but hug back, trying to linger to blink the tears from his eyes.

"Warlock isss cryyying," Crowley hissed in a sing-songy voice, smirking

"Hey, you were too," he sniffled, wiping his nose and staring down. 

"I was just sad I wouldn't be a raven anymore, that was all," Crowley brushed off, looking skyward. "I'll miss all that flapping. And drinking out of puddles."

"Warlock," Aziraphale gushed, trying to blink back his own tears, "I'm sorry you had to go through all that."

"Aww, it was nothing," Warlock brushed off, waving his hand. "I wasn't doing anything better with my time!"

Aziraphale embraced him again.

"Eeeewww, Warlock, watch out," Crowley whispered, "He's already hugged you more than he's hugged me."

Aziraphale pulled away and tried to compose himself.

"I'll forever be in your debt, dear boy."

Warlock grinned. 

"Well, that's nice to know!"

"And, if you wouldn't mind," Aziraphale continued as he rose up, "I'd be honored if you chose your new freedom to stay with us."

" 'Us?' " Warlock asked, looking sideways. "You mean... the church?"

"No, idiot," Crowley corrected, "He means himself and I. Would you like to stay with us?"

Warlock's mind jolted. He just wanted to run free, go back to everything he was familiar with on the streets. But he felt that tug of the last weeks. Every time Aziraphale had extended his worry and kindness for him. Every time that Crowley, despite seeming sinister, extended his protection and goodwill. Everything he could almost recall and deeply wished for from his past with a family he barely knew. Everything his fairy tales had promised; a happy ending with someone who cared for him.

Warlock's eyes darted around as he slapped the sides of his legs and rushed his fingers through his bangs.

"I'd well.... uhmm... I mean, I suppose so, yeah..."

Aziraphale grabbed him again, and Warlock felt like this embrace sealed his fate. As soon as he was free, Crowley came over and embraced him. "Bad news, Warlock," he whispered, "You'll be hauling water for Bentley and mopping floors bright and early tomorrow..."

"Crowley, stop it!" disapproved Aziraphale. "Do give our son a break!"

_"SON? I thought I was just living with you guys?!"_

"Shadwell," Aziraphale commanded, holding out a hand. The Brother bowed his head a little as Aziraphale placed it slowly on his shoulder.

"You are forgiven. I'm sorry about some of the things I said..."

"T'were all said in true, Captin'," Shadwell corrected. 

"All the same," Aziraphale finished, "I thank you for your work. "

Crowley cleared his throat. 

"Uh, yeah, I thank you too, and don't forgive anything I said because it is true. AND..." Crowley leaned forward and slapped Shadwell on the head. "ECLIPSE!"

"Ehh... wha?" Shadwell asked.

"Eclipse!" Crowley hissed. "The words in the book were not 'ellipsed!' Eclipse!" He pointed skyward. "That's an eclipse!"

Shadwell looked more lost than ever.

"Eh, dint' get it but... the book proved true in the end, eh?"

Crowley rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, well, it was my book... anyhow, you are forgiven. Great, good job. Can you watch the boy for us? You know? For a few days?"

He gave a subtle head jerk that emphasized discreteness. 

Shadwell placed his hand back on Warlock's shoulder. 

"Ah' promise," he promised sternly, "Come on, laddie."

Warlock was trying to shuck off the robe as Shadwell marched him away. 

"So, it's over? They get to be humans again?"

"Aye, they do. And the city wants them to stay. "

"That's good!" Warlock gushed. "Just like a fairy tale!"

"Exactly!" Shadwell chuckled. "They are back together!"

"And I'm now adopted! "

"Right laddie, a whole new future for ya! Best not be fallin' back on yer' devious old habits, mark ye!"

"No promises, Shadwell, no promises..."

________________

Crowley and Aziraphale stood side by side in the center of the church as Shadwell marched Warlock off.

"It's over," Crowley whispered. 

"And now," Aziraphale whispered, "Since that chapter is over, here's for a new one."

He turned and bowed with a sweep, holding one hand sideways, the other stretched before himself. Crowley grinned and bowed his body, accepting. Aziraphale leaned forward to kiss the hand in his own, and Crowley tipped back his head in near laughter. They grappled each other's hands and drew close, gently starting to circle.

Warlock glanced back.

_"He's not THAT bad a dancer... I suppose."_

The church erupted in applause as the two wheeled weightlessly, a swish of white and black on the stone floor, dappled in the fractured sunshine. Aziraphale lurched low and forward, embracing hard around Crowley's lower body and hoisting him off his feet. He continued spinning in a dancers circle, holding his love aloft. Crowley placed his hands on his lover's shoulders and beamed down before tossing his head back while closing his eyes. He was flying effortlessly in desire. 

"I love you! I love you!" he cried out, flinging his head sideways.

"I love you too!" Aziraphale boomed as Crowley leaned down to embrace his face and kiss him on the forehead. The church roared with cheers.

"Eewww, super gross," Warlock moaned as he pulled the hood over his face and turned away.

Aziraphale was still holding his love aloft, spinning in circles, lost in rapture. He let Crowley slide to his feet, and his weight pulled them down as they sank to the floor.

Together.

Reunited.

Embracing.

Hoping the moment would never end.

************************************************************************************************************

Thusly ends "Ladycrowe".  
I'm forever in debt to the one that pushed me to join a writing group, the one that gave me the prompt and who's art spurred my heart to write it, the ones that encouraged me through the whole thing, gave me feedback, and gave me a little part of my life back.  
It's been such a wonderful time to write this, and I hope you enjoy it.  
And since I had so much story to write for each character in my head, a prequel and sequel is coming.  
The prequel has already begun, stay tuned. Thanks again for everyone who made me do this.  
_________________________________

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One moment I changed that I did love from the film;  
> When Isabeau enters the church, Navarre rushes to the Bishop and makes him look at her, and then goes to meet her.  
> I loved it but decided to go with how I wrote it to make it more of a power play that Gabriel was trying to force Crowley to come to him and Aziraphale knew Crowley had to come to him to break the Bind.  
> ________________
> 
> Uriel has motivations for the sequel. ;) It's setting up for more stories.  
> ______________  
> Sticking with the show, I had FUCK uttered three times.  
> Crowley when Warlock tried to wake him, Aziraphale in the church, and the Arch-fucking-Bishop. ;)  
> \----  
> I HAD to clean up the End with a sort of blessing with Uriel to smooth things out and set up the next story. I didn't want that loose end floating about  
> ___________  
> Crowley had to come to Aziraphale in the church physically. Aziraphale is as much Tadfield as Gabriel was, so he could come to him.  
> _______________  
> Obviously, the word in the book was Eclipse, not ellipsed.
> 
> __________________________  
> Crowley DOES NOT kill anyone outright in the whole story.  
> He aids with Hastur and Gabriel, but nothing more.  
> Aziraphale kills Michael, Hastur, Ligur, Gabriel, and Sandalphon. I almost had him kill Dagon three times, but held off. Hehe, need another character for other plot twists.  
> ____  
> Oh no, Warlock is adopted. Life is about to get interesting.  
> ___  
> Brief mention of Anathema! She has a large part in the prequel and sequel.  
> ______  
> The Prequel, Lion of Tadfiled, will focus on Crowley coming to Tadfield as a stranger, Aziraphale and him falling for each other, Gabriel's manipulations, ascension, and fascination with Crowley, a major battle, and the ending on a sad note with the Bind coming into place (just warning y'all). War and the Metatron will have parts. Hastur, Dagon, Michael, and Shadwell get more backstory, as do Anathema and Newton.
> 
> There is a prequel in the works now, [The Lion of Tadfield.](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29033961/chapters/71262867)
> 
> The Sequel, Bells of Tadfield, will focus on; Aziraphale and Crowley returning to their lives and deciding to marry. Uriel and the city make moves and demands just as another sect more Occult based demands their recognition, lead by Beezlebub. This is more religious/political strife and not a physical war ( but plenty of adventures ensue). Also, a mysterious connection between Occult and Ethereal is found in a gifted youth (Adam) and political turmoil ensues.  
> Warlock is adopted and adjusting to that role and makes new friends with other kids his age (the Them!). There's wedding planning going on the whole time (while the duo has surprises planned for each other and run Ananthema ragged as the middle man helping orchestrate both) Famine, Beez, the Them, Adam, Madame Tracy also appear. And Crowley gets more time to prove his sorcery skills.  
> \---------------------------  
> And I promise there will be more getting IT on. YES, it was ALL pining for Ladycrowe, sorry folks.


End file.
